


Friendly Fire

by LemonKith



Series: Our Reflection in the TV [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Gotham (TV)
Genre: About Gotham set in the world of the comics if that makes sense, Comics/Animated Series-based, M/M, Riddlebird - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonKith/pseuds/LemonKith
Summary: After too long dancing around their feelings for one another among other revelations watchingGothamhas given them, Oswald and Edward finally make moves to begin their relationship.Only, each is making their own moves at the same time, and with the resulting tragic impasse perhaps there was good reason to be so afraid of taking this final step.





	1. Just a Small Favour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feurio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feurio/gifts).



> You could probably read this fic without having read the other fics in this series but it will make a lot more sense having read them. There won't be any RPF in this one (Since I get the feeling that's what put so many off the previous story in this series) only mentions of the actors. Again, these are the comics/animated series version of Oswald and Edward who have watched the TV show _Gotham_ within their universe.
> 
> For Feuri, without whom this series would never have gone past its first fic.

“He clearly takes more after me.”

“Perhaps in behaviour, but he inherited his future fair features from me. Besides, I’m doing far more of the care-taking; it’s only a matter of time until he begins taking after me more in behaviour as well.”

Edward tutted derisively. “He may take after you in the more obvious, superficial matters of colouration, but the more important subtleties of his appearance are mine as well! Stop trying to steal my son from me, Oswald.”

“ _Your_ son? I don’t see why Cory should be considered ‘your’ penguin when you choose to lay no claim to your actor.” With a haughty sip of his drink, “You haven’t even had the offered opportunity to meet yours.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed. Oswald feigned continued innocence. On the other side of the table running around the centre of the Longue they were currently sat at, the penguins Cory and Robin went on with their co-parenting of Christopher the chick utterly oblivious to the heated debate they were stirring.

“...You left your phone upstairs during that meeting deliberately, didn’t you?” Edward accused.

“If you would desist in your habit of using our phones as a method to eavesdrop upon us I wouldn’t have had to,” Oswald said. “And it’s a good thing I did; the poor lad seemed terrified you posed some sort of threat to him so Lord knows what would have happened had you known when we were meeting and joined us.”

“Well... it’s not fair.”

“What? That I’m a decent, legal human an actor would want to meet and you’re not? Or that we’re ‘BFFs’ now.” At the incredulous look he got, “Robin’s term, not mine.”

“That! He’s infecting you with his...” Edward flapped a hand around, “Californian-teenage-girl actor-y-ness!” Oswald raised a concerned eyebrow at the sheer number of hyphens in that. “I don’t like it.”

“That I have a new friend to discuss delicate details with in my life?” Edward’s pout answered that was true. “Edward, he’s certainly no replacement for you or our other amiably amoral associates; he seemed to truly believe I had given up all criminal activities since reforming.” He shared Edward’s secretive smile, sipping at his drink again before setting it down and thumbing at the glass edge. “However he is... He’s normal, able to be emotionally steady and exceedingly supportive. It’s as if... It feels as if I have family a- Well, I won’t say ‘again’,” Oswald dismissed a little bitterly. “Robin feels like a brother or such to me, Edward. Although maybe I’m simply allowing my being a fan of his to over-exaggerate matters imagining it to be so.” He leant onto one elbow heavily, staring deep into the penguins’ water past its glinting surface. “I can almost believe his attempts to convince me there’s nothing wrong with my appearance or when he insists I deserve nice things now I’ve put in the effort to reform. He’s so incessant about such things if I ever say anything to the contrary that I’m becoming tempted to believe them simply to shut him up.”

Edward remained touchily quiet for a moment, fiddling with the half-eaten pocky stick in his drink. “...When’s his birthday?” Oswald exhaled lightly at the expression of practically tacit acceptance finally. Edward’s phone was already out, signalling the question was either entirely rhetorical or else hadn’t been answered quick enough for his liking. “...Hm. June 4th; damn. Oh well, you could send it to him for Christmas instead.”

“And what, precisely, am I sending to Robin come Christmas?”

“Jervis and I have made animal ears and tails that respond to the wearer’s brain activity with appropriate movements; flattened ears when you frown, faster-moving tail when the heart rate increases and so on.” Oswald made a silent, wryly amused ‘ah’ in understanding and sipped his mixed juice again. “We mainly use them for sex,” Edward paused momentarily to puzzle why Oswald had choked on his drink before continuing; “Jervis originally designed hare ears and a tail for Jonathan but we then proceeded into making a cat version for myself. Selina can attest to how well they work. Did you say he was planning on going back to blond after _Gotham’s_ finished?” He scratched lightly at his own ginger hair.

“I did not intend on so many intimacies of people’s sex lives being imparted to me tonight,” Oswald muttered, coughing the last of his drink back of out the wrong part of his throat. But with a sigh about the whole thing, “Why do two of the most intelligent people on the planet have nothing better to do with their finite lifespan in which to enrich humanity than apply their abilities to making sex toys?”

“For your information Jervis originally created the March Hare ears to help Jonathan learn how to use his mind-controlling technology,” Edward informed him with haughty scorn that there was anything more enriching for them to be spending said time on. “The hare-like cottontail was an afterthought of his. Don’t knock them until you’ve seen Jonathan in nothing else.”

Oswald coughed lightly again, touching at pink-tinged cheeks before gladly moving along to, “Well, considering how I rather ridiculed Robin about the whole matter I could hardly send him such a gift as that for Christmas now.”

“That’s exactly the reason you _should_ send him such a gift for Christmas, to show you support him really despite whatever you said to him about it.”

“I already jokingly enquired if he had a matching tail.”

“Oh good; I did worry he might already have one, even if it would be obviously inferior to our version.” Edward picked his phone back up. “When is Cory Michael Smith’s birthday actually? We could send it to him instead...”

“Why on Earth would you send it to him, given both he has no known galeanthropic tendencies unlike Robin and your noted dislike of him?”

Muttering it wasn’t exactly that he _disliked_ Cory while he continued searching, Edward answered the question with the simple, “Smaylor.”

“Edward, stop trying to ship our actors,” Oswald said, muffling into his drink, “Anyone would think it’s a proxy for something...”

With a dramatic sigh, Edward paused his searching, “Fine. If you insist, Oswald. When’s Robin’s husband’s birthday?” but soon was back to his mischief as ever.

Oswald gave up, he truly did; twelve years had afforded plenty of opportunities to learn it was best to simply step back and let the Riddler run his course. He sipped from his drink, swirled it, looked around for any owner-ly duties that needed attended to. Edward continued typing and swiping away beside him. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but Oswald found his hands tapping with a tension nonetheless as he cast occasional, hopeful glances at Edward’s unspeaking mouth. Edward would glance up too now and then, quickly dropping his gaze back to the safety of his phone screen though. “...So, what have you been belatedly busy with these past few days?” Oswald finally said. “I invited you for a drink nearly a week ago now.”

Of all things, Edward simply shrugged. “Things.”

“’Things’?” Oswald repeated perhaps a little offendedly.

“You know... Riddles.” A glance to Oswald’s face showed that to be no better an answer. “I was going to come at the weekend – I was genuinely busy with things they first couple of days – Then... you know.” Edward tried but Oswald had him fixed with one of those very hard gazes, the ones Edward vividly remembered had preceded an assault with whatever umbrella Oswald had to hand back in the old days. He set his phone down finally, eyes downcast to it. “...manic... I had a manic episode...” Edward mumbled, fingers tapping rapidly on the case of his phone.

“...Oh,” Oswald accepted uneasily, turning to Edward to afford them slightly more intimacy. “What brought that-?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Edward’s fingers continued their uncomfortably frantic tapping. “I didn’t want to- The fact you were inviting me specifically for no purpose other than a social one suggested logically it was likely to be an important conversation of some kind. I didn’t think it was best to-” His fingers all pressed themselves down at once, forcing a tense calm again.

“I didn’t... It can wait,” Oswald assured him, biting his lip for the moment.

“Did you hear anymore about _Gotham_ from your new inside source?” Edward picked up more cheerfully, back to slightly mocking again at the same time however.

“Robin mentioned he passed along my thoughts on my characters to the writers; they’ve told him little though so no word if they’ll actually take any of it onboard.”

“I would hardly be surprised if they ignored it,” Edward griped; “they’ve shown a near complete disregard for every other form of sense when it comes to our characters so far, so why should this time be any different?” Oswald sat through the griping with good nature, a small part of him revelling in less-than-kind agreement. “So if he’s not had much to pass along on that matter, what _have_ you and Robin been saying to one another to become such ‘BFFs’?”

“Well, thank you for not inappropriately inviting yourself into my inbox as I know you could have done, although I shouldn’t have to be thanking you for such a thing.” With a slight sigh, he admitted, “Once we’d gotten off _Gotham_ -related matters much of our conversation since has consisted of him sending me pictures of his cat Finn, to which I send pictures of my penguins back.”

“You are kidding.”

“You know how that boy’s obsessed with cats.”

“Penguins too, apparently,” Edward said, gaze focused only on the human Penguin sat beside him though. Oswald raised one black, arched eyebrow, waiting hopefully on the sheer intensity of that gaze. Edward eventually just broke away though, attention back to his nearly empty drink. “I, um... I have a favour to ask of you, Oswald. Tomorrow. During the daytime when you’re less busy. Your staff don’t come in until 5, do they?”

“The cleaners come in around 2 or 3.”

Edward considered that a minute, staring out over the water at the centre of the club. “The morning then,” he announced. “I’ll see you then.” Standing, and pulling out a well-kept note to pay amply for his drinks that he placed down under his empty martini glass, Edward held up two fingers towards his temple in goodbye and strode off towards the exit.

Oswald watched his back all the way until it was out of sight, and then a few moments further still, before turning back to the countertop. Setting his head in one palm heavily his hand pulled out Edward’s money, searching for any trace of his warmth left on it, before pulling himself to his feet to take it and the empty glasses to the bar.

~#~

“It’s open,” Oswald called to the knocking at the door, folding shut his papers and slipping everything sensitive away into a drawer of his desk in the time it took the door to open and admit Edward into the room. “Greetings. And how are you faring today, my friend?”

Edward walked towards his desk without an answer, attention caught when Oswald’s phone resting on it vibrated with a text. “Robin?”

Oswald picked it up for privacy to check. “Are you still jealous, Edward?” He could have cleared the air it was just one of the bartenders calling in sick but held out for an answer this time.

Edward shrugged. “I need the sort of lithium-ion batteries used in a car or similar. Do you have those sort of connections?”

“Is that your favour?” Oswald asked with one raised eyebrow, also slipping his phone away to deal with later. “Not directly but I do have connections in science and technology, as well as in vehicles. Do I want to know what you require such a thing for?”

“Nothing harmful; it’s not any sort of death-trap puzzlebox if that’s what you were thinking. It’s for a favour.”

“End user,” Oswald insisted.

“Query and Echo; too many run-ins trying to get gas, and I think maybe Pamela got to them.” Edward chewed on his lip about that part.

Oswald sighed. “And the thought of just purchasing an electric car passed through none of your minds?”

“Please. That’d be like buying my computer or the phones I provide pre-made.” He gestured at where Oswald had slipped his away. “Security risk both in purchase and use, pointlessly expensive _and_ utterly inferior to what I can make. Besides,” he added more practically, “they need something armoured for their... _lifestyle_. Not quite part of Tesla’s range just yet.”

“All right,” Oswald supposed heavily. “If it’s for your girls.” He brought his phone back out to make a note. “Now, is this the form of favour I will actually be repaid in some way for, or the ‘Now you’re reformed I’m going to falsely assume I can screw the Penguin over and get away with it’ sort of favour I am far too often beleaguered by these days?”

“People actually try that?” Edward chuckled.

“Well, there’s not many left to attempt it anymore,” Oswald let the rest of that speak for itself.

Edward smirked conspiratorially, perching in far-too-tight hunter green jeans upon the edge of Oswald’s desk. He didn’t miss Oswald’s gaze flicking down for a second before returning expectantly to his face. “Setting aside the fact our friendship is at a level where I thought we don’t even have to speak of keeping track of who owes whom what anymore,” Oswald gave him a dry look for a moment, “I was intending to repay this one, Oswald.”

“My choice?”

“That depends what that would be,” Edward answered too smoothly.

Always too smoothly. Always glib jokes and that old rapport. Oswald slid his phone around in his hands, catching his own reflection in the dark screen set in stoic uncertainty. He set the phone down, leaning to one side on one arm with eyes closed and a heavy exhale. Only able to stare at the dark wood of his desk, long overdue a good polishing, “I want to talk about us, Edward,” Oswald said. “About... whatever this is between us. Our feelings.” He dared to look up, already knowing he wasn’t going to like that spooked expression on Edward’s face. “If you’re still dealing with...” he waved his hand around lightly, “your manic spell I don’t mind-”

“Oswald,” Edward interrupted, taking in a deep breath. “Can we skip that part? Can I just be making love to you right now?”

Oswald’s chin definitely slipped off his palm. He was quite certain his jaw should have hit the edge of his desk with how much he felt it had dropped. Regaining some decorum, and desperately trying to banish the absolutely juvenile blush that had overtaken his face, “...What...? You want...?” Pressing his face into both hands for a brief moment to compose himself. “Edward-”

“It doesn’t have to be all the way if you don’t want to. I could just suck you off-”

“Edward,” Oswald cut back in, fierce in tone and still fiercely blushing as he fixed Edward in a serious gaze again. “While that, I suppose we could charitably contend, answers some of what I meant by addressing our feelings for each other, it is not what I wanted in saying that.”

“I know. But it’s what I want,” Edward said honestly, slipping back off the desk to stand facing Oswald across it. “It’s what I’ve wanted for so long, but I...” He splayed his hands on the desk surface uncomfortably.”

Oswald sighed, the noise almost slipping into a groan. “For the record,” he mentioned, head in his hands briefly again, “I’m aware you stole that line from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ -”

“Stop being so perfect,” Edward let out practically breathlessly, still waiting on him.

Oswald raised his face again from the relative safety of his hand halfway, mouth still covered but even half his face enough to show visible unease. He looked upon Edward for a long moment across the desk between them, pulled towards the beautiful, elusive creature by one half and rooted by the other with fear and pain. “...You don’t want to talk about our feelings?” he asked again.

“I’d rather do this,” Edward answered, fingers splaying out again as if steadying himself.

Oswald held out a moment longer, gaze pained and feebly hopeful, before sighing and pushing himself back in his seat. “All right,” he resigned. “If this is what you want.”

“Is this what you want?” Edward checked earnestly. “That doesn’t sound like consent.”

Oswald’s hands fidgeted in his lap, too close to his belt already. “...It is. I do want this, Edward. Perhaps it’s not what I would have preferred... but I will admit I am at least curious, I suppose,” he finished somewhat quietly, gaze trained down on his lap.

Lighting up with a smile, Edward hopped around the desk in but a moment, practically sliding over one corner as Oswald turned his chair perpendicular to his desk, lap facing where Edward eagerly dropped to his knees.

Hands slid up Oswald’s thighs, palms putting a particular pressure on the insides through his trousers, before pale, slender fingers pulled open his belt with far too much expertise. Uncomfortably, Oswald shifted to assist it being moved aside then his trousers being undone and pushed down slightly. Shifting forward slightly to move his lap out from underneath the swell of his stomach, “Is this-?”

Edward hummed very appreciably, breaking into chuckling. “Nice boxers.”

Oswald glanced down, the vibrant purple of- “One of my staff bought them for me, perhaps as a gag gift; I was never quite sure. If I had known you would be...” He gestured, “I would have worn something more tasteful and less... themed.”

“Ohh, I like them though.” Edward smirked far too smugly, smoothing a thumb over one of the cartoon penguins and the line of Oswald’s hipbone beneath. Even that little produced a startled quiver through Oswald’s body, practically a flinch. Edward’s eyes flicked up, thumb lingering. “You’re already blushing.”

“I’m not very- I... have sensitive skin,” Oswald sniffed, trying to convert an embarrassed blush into a displeased flush with the addition of a frown.

Edward made a dismissive noise in the back of his throat that said enough about that little claim. His thumb began to move again, gaze still trained on Oswald’s face as it returned to blushing trepidation.

Oswald noticed him, “A-Aren’t you meant to b-be...?” half-concealing his face again with one hand while the other gestured Edward towards his lap.

With a smirk, “Oh, certainly, Mr. Penguin,” Edward’s attention finally dropped and gave Oswald some peace again.

Lower face still covered, Oswald could feel his blush burning against his fingertips and palm as something began to pull at the waistband of his boxers and the air of the room suddenly felt far too cool on bare skin. The inventory lists waiting on his desk really weren’t the sexiest thing to be staring at but even the sight of that particular shade of ginger hair in his periphery, currently down by his lap, about to go down further on his-

A clicking of fingers pulled Oswald’s gaze round by instinct to watch Edward’s pink lips slide down and around his cock before he had the chance to realise it. The yelp he let out, gratefully muffled by his hand, caused one of Edward’s perfectly kept eyebrows to arch for a moment, eye contact held as he sunk lower still. His autistic need to look away caused Edward to close his eyes a moment later, seeming focused on nothing but the sensation of Oswald’s dick in his mouth as he let out a hum of pleasure.

Any nervous reservations Oswald had started with gave way to being painfully aware of how hard he was right now, how desperately he needed this to the point one of his hands found its way into Edward’s hair thoughtlessly urging him to stay there, to take more, to-

Oswald yanked his hand away apologetically, curling it shamefully to his chest.

Edward’s eyes fluttered open, looking up through his lashes. One eyebrow rose, as he slid his lips all the way down and took Oswald’s entire cock into his mouth and throat, asking a silent ‘this?’.

Oswald whimpered now, biting the inside of the hand still in front of his mouth and needing to press his eyes shut. Other hand still clutched awkwardly to the front of his shirt, he forced his hips still so Edward could do as he pleased.

The heat of Edward’s mouth slid back up, massaging just the head with his lips as the cool air turned cold on the saliva-slicked shaft he’d left behind. He left it painfully cold and hard, taking his own pleasure sucking and licking at the slit of the head, before finally engulfing the whole thing in his mouth again.

The hot contraction that quivered through Oswald’s thighs and spine was completely beyond his control, tasting the slightest tang of blood where he bit into his palm as he came in the back of Edward’s mouth and over his tongue, Edward pulling back enough to properly savour the latter half.

Breathing heavily, daring to open his eyes a moment later to watch Edward sucking and tonguing at his softening cock for every last bit he could get out of it, Oswald finally removed his hand from his face despite his muscles being almost stiff now.

Edward pulled back at that point, resting each of his elbows on Oswald’s knees to fold and lean on his forearms as he looked up with the most expectant, pleased smirk.

Gaze dropping to his flaccid penis, something Oswald felt the need to put away again instantly, and then Edward so close by, his bright pink lips even still swollen slightly so suggestively, “...Th-Thank you,” Oswald found his voice again, even if it was small and very uncomfortable.

“Thank you?” Edward questioned in amusement.

“No?” Oswald spooked slightly. “I-It seemed the appropriate thing to say when someone has just...” He flicked his hand very awkwardly in the direction of what Edward had just done. “That was very... k-kind of you,” he tried again.

“Kind? You really think I didn’t enjoy doing this for you.” Edward lightly almost laughed. Tilting his head to one side, still resting above Oswald’s lap, “You wouldn’t want to return the favour?”

Blushing and stammering wordlessly, Oswald couldn’t find a reply to give. He merely waited, staring down and yet avoiding Edward directly until the silence had grown too long.

Edward sighed, but contently, “All right then.” Pushing himself to his feet, and making a show of brushing dust from his knees that wasn’t there, his fingers caressed and lingered on one of Oswald’s knees as he said, “Don’t forget to uphold your end of this.” With an utterly flirtatious grin, he slinked away with grace and no further words to the door of Oswald’s suite, shutting it behind him and the sound of his footsteps descending the stairs quickly fading away.

Oswald pulled his trousers back up fast, a shameful thought hitting him if any of his employees had come in and seen him in such a state, then simply sighed as he leant forward with elbows on the desk and face in his palms.

‘His end of things’; Oswald pulled his phone back out to make a- He found a note already made and groaned at his own scrambled brains.

Swiping through screens with his thumb, it was easy to find a photo of Edward – Sitting, laughing, nearly unaware of him with Jonathan and Jervis – to simply stare into.

With an uncomfortable shift in his seat, deep sigh and another lingering look at the photo, Oswald locked his phone and set it face down to return to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you want a headstart on this fic you can check out chapter 12 of my [Hattercrow fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982985) focusing on his friendship with Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch for a deeper understanding of Edward's side going forward)


	2. IOU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a couple of hyperlinks to songs in this chapter which are pieces of music going on in the scene; do give them a listen while reading if you can.

As it beeped Oswald removed his thumb from the scanner beside the door, casting a glance back at the end section of the maze-like, urban obstacle course Edward insisted even his friends run simply to make a social call-

The heavy metal door clicked, unlocking. Oswald let himself in to Edward’s... apartment? Work studio? Frankly ‘secret base’ seemed most apt.

Removing his shoes in the unlit entrance hallway, Oswald could simply follow the loud but wall-muffled [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K9cPo2Zysi0) – Was this what kids were listening to these days? Such things were hardly Oswald’s forte – to Edward, not announcing his presence for the same reason. He did knock on the closed door at the end of his search, Edward’s workshop downstairs, but receiving no answer after half a minute opened it carefully for himself. Sticking his head in first, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him after spotting Edward sat obliviously amongst coils of wire and a rather complex-looking plastic box on the floor. Ignoring a striking familiarity to some of his birds as Edward stuck fingers in and out of the drilled holes of the small box, “Edward?” He tried five metres closer, “Edward?”

That time got Edward’s attention, and a startled screwdriver being brandished at him as Edward whirled on his intruder before quickly recognising, “Oswald!” He made a bit of a show of being interrupted, “Why didn’t you text first?” but set aside everything nonetheless.

“I did. One hour ago.” Frowning, Edward stood up brushing his clothes off. Oswald tried not to stare but next to all his usual perfectly tailored suits and waistcoats, somehow it was rumpled T-shirts and torn dungarees that got him worst when it came to Edward; so relaxed, so vulnerable, so... rugged? Dare he use that word? Anyway, Edward had picked up his phone plugged into the stereo with an, “Oh,” signalling he really had been absorbed in his work for some time. “I do hope you don’t mind my not waiting for a reply,” Oswald continued, “but I’m afraid I’m rather in need of a favour, one with a deadline of tomorrow.”

“Mm?” Edward turned back to him in question.

Oswald gestured at the phone plugged into the stereo, waiting through the moment it took Edward to realise he needed to turn his music down. “Not that I don’t appreciate the exposure to your marvellous melodic miscellanea-”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Edward tutted, sounding genuinely hurt.

“I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I don’t recognise the music, is all I meant to imply.”

“Barenaked Ladies are not ‘miscellanea’; even the notoriously uncultured general public recognised their talent enough for them to reach the top of the charts in 1998.” His gaze flicked to the stereo, assessing the current song approaching its final chorus. “What sort of music _do_ you like? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you even listen to music of your own choosing.”

“That’s because it’s indeed a rare occurrence these days,” Oswald said, watching Edward tidying away various tools around the workshop. “I suppose I still have a fondness for the things I grew up listening to, if I must.”

“Which would be?”

“Yes, I would have thought you could work out if I’d wanted to tell you that I’d have done so at the end of my previous parlance.” Edward turned back to flash a cheeky grin, to which Oswald merely rolled his eyes away. “...The Beach Boys and the Cure, and before you go on-” He gave up as Edward was already gleefully besieged with laughter.

“’The Cure’? Oh my God, don’t tell me you actually looked like Robin Lord Taylor’s ‘vampire disco goth’ interpretation of you as a teenager? What did you look like as a teenager, actually?” Genuine curiosity halted the laughter at least, although Oswald wouldn’t mind that terribly amused grin also making itself scarce.

“Embarrassing, as I believe everyone does during their adolescence.” And that was all Oswald would be saying on the subject.

Edward hummed, one that came with all sorts of warnings this wasn’t the end of the matter, but he simply crossed to his stereo and flicked through to [a new song](https://youtu.be/51zsxbB8WS8?t=5) smoothly as the previous one ended. “I’m afraid my familiarity with the Beach Boys extends to this song BNL did about Brian Wilson. Almost kind of fitting, don’t you think? My favourite band doing a song about the lead singer of yours.”

Though most of his attention diverted to appreciating the new song, “I never really considered you much of an audiophile, I must say, Edward,” Oswald commented.

Edward shrugged. “Only when it comes to a few bands. The ones that really mean something to me.” His gaze drifted off to the stairs on one wall, leading up to his living quarters. He motioned for Oswald to stay and continue listening while disappearing up there for a short moment, returning before long to hand something to Oswald, a photograph of all things.

Old, slightly sun-faded, cheaply printed at a local shop; five young men in their 20s by the looks of it, and stood in the middle before the one with a terrible 90s fade hairstyle, grinning his face off like it was the best night of his life, “...It’s you.” The utterly unkempt ginger hair, that awkward smattering of freckles mixed in with a bit of good old teenage acne, the most second-hand looking clothes Oswald had ever seen, “This is you as a teenager, Edward.”

Edward shrugged, smiling just slightly enough to confirm it.

This was Edward Nashton he was being shown, not Nygma. “I thought you destroyed everything from before you took your new name.”

“Mostly. Everything that other people held on me at least,” he confirmed. “But... it’s still my childhood, Oswald. Even if I wish I could delete so much of it I can’t deny that it happened.” When Oswald looked up, catching him rubbing at the side of his face very awkwardly, “My mother always liked to have the radio on. She’d listen to Canadian stations that we could pick up across the border and NPR mainly. I continued listening even after she...” He fell quiet a moment. “I’d heard Barenaked Ladies so many times on the radio by the time they finally came to my city; I barely had the money for a ticket, had to sneak out and get some uni students to sneak me onto the campus where they were playing. My father found out and beat the crap out of me when I got back, but it was still one of the best nights of my whole life.” Oswald studied the photo again, thinking to turn it over and found a collection of five signatures and messages on the back. “The one I’m standing in front of, Ed, was my biggest crush as a teenager. I’m good friends with the band now, still go to their shows; it’s nice to just get away from being the Riddler sometimes, to return to being Edward for once.”

‘July  3rd 95 – Oakland Uni, Detroit’ was crammed messily into the bottom right corner under the signatures. “You’re from Detroit?” Edward nodded simply, no song and dance about it. “Setting aside I know neither where that is nor which state it’s in,” the Brit said, prompting a chuckle, “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard even rumours as to where you’re from.”

Edward sauntered over, reclaiming the photo from Oswald with a simple pluck. “It’s a riddle. At least to most people.” With a wink he took it back to the side he had been leant against. “One of the band members has gone solo now, Steven Page, the one singing this current song; his music is a lot like a combination of the Beach Boys and the Cure. Do you want to borrow an album of his?”

“Oh, er... All right. Thank you.” The next part of the riddle about Edward perhaps? In any case, decorum dictated he take the offer.

Edward reached over and switched the stereo off mid-song for now. “So, as fascinatingly revealing as this conversation is, you said you needed a favour?”

“Ah. Yes,” Oswald remembered, looking around for a seat and coming up fruitless unless he wanted to make the rather ostentatious power-move of taking the chair behind Edward’s solitary desk over in the far corner. “A business associate of mine- Well, individual I’m being forced to do business with. One involved in my... _other_ areas of business,” he put tactfully, not that there was really need here. “Up until this point a minor player, merely doing what he’s been told. But one who now has grown ideas above his station, to the displeasure of myself and others involved. We need something that can keep him in line.”

“Dirt,” Edward summarised.

“Yes, most bluntly. As I said, he’s been too minor a personage for anyone to have paid enough attention to him so far. Thus,” He gestured to Edward and his own presence here.

“Name?”

Deftly flicking open a button of his suit jacket, Oswald reached in and took out a standard letter envelope he held out. “Name, known addresses and associates, everything we have so far.”

Edward took the envelope, pulling out the thin sheaf of papers, satisfied quickly enough to toss it down onto the table to deal with later. “So, what do I get in return?” he was more interested in asking.

“Oh, I’d rather assumed- In the past you’ve done these sorts of for free, enough mutual favours already traded and all that,” Oswald pointed out.

“True,” Edward admitted, taking on a grin, “but I paid back the last favour I did for you. Don’t you think you should do the same?” He hopped up to sit back on the table edge behind him, waiting.

The last favour that he- Oh. Oswald watched Edward for further elucidation, sat back as he was with his arms behind him and lap open- _Oh_. “...You want me to...?” Oswald picked through very slowly.

“You made me do it.”

“You offered. I made you do nothing,” Oswald clarified sharply.

Edward laughed lightly. “All right, that is fair. You can’t blame me for wanting to though. And I would have thought you’d feel the same.”

Oswald tried not to let his eyes stray down there, to Edward’s- “In... In some form, perhaps,” he flushed. “But not under these circumstances, Edward.”

“Why not?” A thin, long-fingered hand smoothed over the tabletop to the envelope, picking it up to dangle by one corner. “Last time was fun, wasn’t it?” His Cheshire smile curled like a finger beckoning Oswald closer.

“’Fun’... I see.” Oswald stood his ground, staring down at the scattered inventions and tools that looked so toy-like at his feet. “No, Edward. I won’t have you damage our friendship like this. You may want fun but my feelings also hold weight in this and I want more than just that, and you know it. We’ve already deferred discussion for far too long, and I won’t allow you to do so any further just to... fuck,” he managed uncomfortably, a crudeness necessary for once in his life. “I am going to pretend this exchange didn’t happen until you are ready to discuss the matters that need be discussed for the sake of our friendship; I would advise you to do the same, and to not make that time much longer in coming.” Having not looked up at Edward whilst speaking his piece, Oswald turned curtly to leave in the hope of keeping this impersonal.

Of course, as noises scrambled off the table behind him, such complicated things would hardly go that way in reality. “Oswald, I didn’t mean to- I’m not damaging our friendship,” Edward asserted, catching up behind him before he could get out of the workroom door. “It just seemed like a good opportunity to make the favours more enjoyable for the both of us-”

“Do you actually have any feelings for me, Edward?!” Oswald finally snapped, rounding on him.

Even Edward backed a step away, wordless.

Oswald stared him down, even at a foot shorter in height, before resigning himself just to sigh. “I will see you again soon, Edward. Please give me a few days first however.” After another moment watching Edward stammer silently in shock he turned back to the door, opening it and seeing himself out.

~#~

The next day, just before he descended from showering and dressing to prepare for the Lounge’s opening that night, a file had materialised on Oswald’s desk in his apartment. He picked it up, finding both legal and less so ways of dealing with his problem ‘associate’ were he ever to try to step out of line again.

Oswald set the file down, resting a hand heavily on it as he sighed. 


	3. The Elephant Seal in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for discussion of sexual abuse/manipulation this chapter.

Most of a week later Oswald returned to his office, “Yes, I cuddle with the penguins sometimes when I’m feeling down. So what?” talking to himself, “They understand it; penguins even hold flippers with their mates in certain species so hugging is hardly-” until he noticed a head of ginger hair staring awkwardly at him from over the arm of his sofa. While his own face coloured a deep red, “...Edward,” Oswald acknowledged, crossing to his desk.

“I didn’t know you were going to- You cuddle with your penguins?” Oswald frowned at him to not say one more word, Edward quickly coming over to the other side of the desk to address him. “I’m sorry for coming in uninvited-”

“Yes, thank you for finally noticing that. Perhaps you could have done so before presumptuously placing yourself on my sofa without my permission.”

“-but we’re... friends, aren’t we?” Edward checked rather carefully, a degree of uncertainty very unusual for him to show. “I mean, you said you wanted a ‘few days’ before we saw each other again and a ‘few’ means three to five so I figured I’d best take the average and wait four but if you meant all five I’ll-” He shut up, running a rather twitchy hand backwards through his hair.

Oswald considered him for a moment, letting out a heavy exhale through his nose as he took a good guess this matter had been on Edward’s mind since they last parted and he’d calculated his way through the social etiquette the best his autistic mind could. Given his tendency to obsess and need answers to everything it must have been hard on him, but Oswald had needed the time and that was healthily fair to take so-

A soft sound interrupted, Edward very gently and precisely placing down what looked like a music album on the side of Oswald’s desk he stood on, then slowly sliding it in a very straight and cautious line across the desk to him as Oswald watched it the entire way.

It was an album: Steven Page, _Page One_.

“I spent a long time trying to decide which of his albums you’d like best – I listened to a couple of Beach Boys ones to learn what they sounded like – and I think it’d be this one but if you don’t you could try his most recent one, _Heal Thyself Pt. 1_ \- He’s got a new one coming out later this year hopefully, _Part 2_ , but I don’t know-”

“Edward,” Oswald cut in, more for Edward’s sake than his own.

“I-I just wanted to come by to give you this,” Edward explained, hands fidgeting very visibly in front of him, “since you said you wanted to borrow it so I thought...”

“Thank you.” Picking up the album, and giving it a cursory inspection to show polite interest, Oswald placed it in his ‘current projects’ drawer. While interested, right now, “Did you come just for this? Or did you finally come to discuss...?” Even he couldn’t say it. Maybe it would be best if Edward was just here to exchange pleasant tokens.

Edward fidgeted, looking around for a seat presumably but finding a similar lack to the one Oswald had found at his place; they were both lifelong solitary creatures even in their furnishings, almost aptly. “I... I don’t know quite why you reacted as you did,” Edward started.

Oswald knew he could take that as close to an expression of Edward not understanding something as he could ever admit. Since he’d also not simply said his goodbyes and run away from this situation, “Come.” He gestured for Edward to follow him, leading him to the comfortable, black sofa across in the corner of the room so they could both sit.

Edward settled at slightly more ease here, at least once he started tracing the shadowed crystalline patterns embroidered onto the fabric with a little finger.

Oswald himself leant sideways against the back of the sofa on one arm, considering the other man beside him. He needed to take quite the breath before he could even begin on, “...Edward, I take it you were simply attempting to have fun when it comes to what transpired between us those two times.” Edward nodded readily. “You know that I’m looking for more however.”

“That’s not incompatible with having fun though,” Edward defended. “While we’re still in the process of getting there I don’t see any reason not to enjoy ourselves in what ways we can. If anything it might help get us there! You know, bring us closer,” he said, smiling hopefully. “I thought that was how you felt too, given you agreed the first time.”

Oswald inhaled again, taking his time before replying. “This is not a way I can enjoy myself before having the discussion we need to have, Edward.” He got a blank, blinking look at that announcement. Tracking back a few apparently necessary steps, “Edward, you have regular sex with Selina and with Jonathan and Jervis?”

“These days.” He then clarified, “There was also Query and Echo when they still worked with me- I’m clean, if that’s what you’re worried about; the blood tests each time we get incarcerated would pick up if we-”

Oswald waved that off, nodding he’d known. “Casual, no-strings-attached sex with friends for fun, yes?” Edward nodded. “I’ve never had that sort of sex.”

“I know.” Given Oswald frowned at him rather questioningly, “Or I’ve sort of picked up you don’t given I doubt you’d be able to trust anyone outside of our friendship circle either, and I would have heard about it if so.”

“Yes, well,” Setting aside his slightly obnoxious deductions, “it’s not a type of sex I’m comfortable with having, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. Okay. And you’re not interested in becoming comfortable with it?” Edward checked, no pressure but still hopeful.

Once again, Oswald needed a moment first. This time he had to turn forward on the sofa, facing away from Edward, to speak. “...This is something... I had hoped could come far later. But if it must be said now...” He had to smooth a hand over his face, settling with it still half-covered as Oswald continued heavily, “I have had sexual relations a grand total of three times in my life, Edward. While at university I had... well, what I believed to be girlfriend, I suppose. She was only using me for financial reasons and because I was willing to do anything for her, starved as I had been for any form of attention and affection my whole life up to that point; she put up with having sex with me a couple of times as part of the manipulation, but it was ultimately that which caused her to break the act because I... because my body was so repulsive to her.” He sighed lightly, curling his deformed hand to rest his chin on now. “After that another girl expressed interest in having sex with me one evening. I found out the next day, stood in the middle of the packed cafeteria as she was loudly describing it to a gathered audience, in detail how ‘disgusting’ and ‘desperate’ I was, that it had all been simply a bet or dare; I didn’t stay to find out which.” Almost muttering, he sat back with eyes closed and arms folded. “That was enough for me to swear off love and sex from that point on, given I’d never known any true form of familial or platonic love either at that time. You may be able to have sex in that way, and I have no issue at all with that. But I can’t, Edward.”

“...Oh my God, you were raped.”

“What?!” Oswald practically squawked, eyes snapping open in an instant. “Don’t be ridiculous; I wasn’t raped.”

“Well, sexually abused then-”

“I was not sexually abused!” Oswald insisted sharply, dark eyebrows taking that fierce dip Edward recognised as a return of his former, unrestrained anger.

“When one party agrees to engage in a particular sexual act but then their partner deceives them in some way, not using protection or lying about their identity for example, that constitutes rape I believe,” Edward recounted factually.

“I consented to the acts, Edward,” Oswald insisted again. “I was simply a fool.”

Identifying an impossible debate when he saw one, “...Well, you were taken advantage of,” he suggested as a phrasing, which Oswald’s uncomfortable silence tacitly accepted. “I see,” Edward sat back heavily, closing his own eyes to consider. “I understand now why you can’t... ...oh God,” His eyes popped back open as he whispered. “Oh God, I made you have sex in exchange for a favour-! I didn’t mean to- Oswald, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I only wanted sex with you in return for something; that wasn’t what it was meant to be at all! I absolutely miscalculated this!”

Given the significance of that last sentence coming from Edward Nygma’s mouth- Well, Oswald was at peace to sit back and keep his patience anyway. “I didn’t refuse you; you even explicitly checked for my consent and I granted it-”

“Yes, but that’s the same as-”

“I knew you weren’t using me, Edward, or not beyond what you had made explicit,” Oswald continued with enough comfort. “I didn’t refuse because I am sexually attracted to you, and I feared being too strict or demanding would scare you off from any chance at a relationship. So I took what I could, even if the thought you only wanted to have sex with me as a form of restitution was uncomfortable.” He noted Edward’s bowed head, his utterly devastated and lost expression as his mind must be racing through all this. “I wanted to talk. That you didn’t... I feared the reason is because you have no feelings for me.” He circled his thumbs around one another, looking at them now.

“No, I-!” Edward started quickly, then backtracked to begin in his own order of events. “It was meant to make it more fun, like a kink; I thought you’d enjoy the power of it, since I know you like- or I assumed your desire for power would extend to... You know, having the mighty and famous Riddler submit to your will, and all that.”

“I wasn’t seeing you as ‘the mighty and famous Riddler’ in that situation, only as Edward,” Oswald confessed. “Considering I desire something based in our feelings for one another and upon an attraction to me as a person, not a mere identity, I suppose that’s why it felt as it did to me. But I understand what you saw in it from your position as well.”

“I’m sorry.” Given Edward looked almost panicked Oswald smiled at him as reassuringly as he could. “I was- I shouldn’t have projected onto you,” he said. “I understand now, Oswald, that sex isn’t and can’t be just a game to you as it is to me.”

“Thank you.” Oswald returned to a posture closer to his original, more comfortable one. “For myself, I was hoping conjugal contact would come later after the traditional trappings of romance and love had been discussed. I would be prepared, even after my past experiences, to trust you in that intimate capacity if we establish a firmer base first. Is that amenable to you?” he checked.

Edward looked at him for a moment, a moment Oswald thought was preceding the simple agreement he naturally expected, but then Edward now took position with elbows leant forward on his knees as he turned away. “...Isn’t it ill-fatedly apt I’d consider a sexual relationship as a needed base for a romantic relationship instead? I... I can’t simply enter a romantic relationship, Oswald. I know you’ve noticed how I’ve been avoiding this; it’s because I need to deepen our trust further before I can do such a thing. Love is... a difficult subject for me.”

Oswald just considered him for a moment. “...So sex is complicated for me. And love is complicated for you.” He deeply sighed. “What a pair...”

“I can’t compromise on this any more than I expect you to be able to,” Edward continued. He glanced long enough to note Oswald’s raised eyebrow, turning away again to answer, “It’s... I know you...” He took a deep breath. “I do want to but I...” His hand smoothed over his face yet again, running back into his hair this time in frustration.

Oswald had to lean over now, gently discouraging him before he started causing himself harm from his frustration. “Edward...” He didn’t even know if there was anything to say though. Each had their needs they fairly couldn’t move on, even if he was unaware of the particulars in Edward’s case; he had no desire to push Edward, but neither would he be pushed beyond his comfort zone again after once had been enough. Thus, “...What do we do now?”

Edward settled down, looking at him glumly. “I...” Well, the Riddler couldn’t ever admit the words ‘I don’t know’ but Oswald could guess they were meant to be there.

Watching his own hands again, thumbs flexing uneasily as far as the short distance they could go, “I do want you to know I don’t expect you to explain your reasoning as I did, Edward; I accept it as is,” Oswald made clear. “I only made mention of mine to simplify this discussion, and... and to prove to myself I’m not afraid of what happened to me.” His thumbs stilled, tucking into his hands that he balled up as close to normal-looking fists as their deformity would let them be. “We’re both simply too damaged, perhaps...” he finally murmured.

“For this conversation?”

“For this relationship.” He settled back pensively into the welcoming blackness of the sofa. “Perhaps _Gotham_ was right about the two of us attempting to have a relationship after all...”

Edward sat still in Oswald’s periphery, tucked back into the opposite corner of the sofa but long legs dangling forward into Oswald’s space. One of his shoes was tapping at the air, a rather stylish, black set of Oxfords with an iridescent tint today, moving in uneasy thought- “Oswald,” Edward began in an unusual tone. “I’m going to say something, I’ll be able to stay for a short response, but then I will have to go and have no contact with you until tomorrow. Okay?”

Oswald looked over him properly, catching little in the way of explanation or hints in Edward’s rather stoic, hesitant attitude. “...All right. I understand.”

Edward nodded, gathering himself for whatever this would be. Bringing his legs to a neater position in front of him, hands in his laps and then face turning fully away from Oswald, “...I... I’m sorry,” he managed awkwardly. “I made a big, unintentional mistake and I hurt you, even if you’re being kind and patient with me about it which I probably don’t deserve when I haven’t been- when I can’t-” He came to a sharp stop, starting again, “I want to be in a relationship with you but I... I’m afraid of...” After taking a shaky breath, in a rather rushed voice now, “If anything I want it too much but I don’t want to- If something happened and-” Oswald went to speak but Edward punched a fist down into the sofa beside him in frustration. “I can’t do the things you need and I don’t want to make you worse or mess this up for us because I really want this so much but I don’t want to hurt you, and I did. So I don’t know what to...” He shot up from the sofa to pace the room, breathing fast and hands going to his head to run through his hair, sliding fingernails down the back and into his skin there tightly.

Oswald just sat. And he took his time with this. When Edward started clicking his fingers though, warning him that short window for a reply was closing, “...You don’t need to say or do anything if you wish to be in a relationship with me aside from stating that simple fact, Edward; I could wait for the day you can forever, if it’s you. And I’m well accustomed to being hurt.” Edward looked backwards in his rough direction without a somewhat pained expression himself. Oswald was smiling softly back, and said one more thing: “If this isn’t too presumptuous, then I want to add one further thing; just remember that every night I sleep alone currently could be a night I sleep beside you.”

Edward’s eyes widened at the sheer romance, or maybe just corniness Oswald more likely expected, and his body almost swayed back to stay. In the end, despite temptation, “I-I have to go,” he said, shaking his head.

Oswald nodded. “I may not fully understand yet, but I trust you, Edward.”

Nails scratching up and down the back of his neck again as he stared at the door, Edward eventually shook his head and hurried over, managing just the smallest, “s-sorry...” as he fumbled it open as fast as he could to escape.

Back on the sofa, Oswald dropped his gaze slightly. But then he smoothed his hand out over the warmth Edward had left behind on the other seat for a moment before settling into a contemplation alone.

~#~

Tomorrow, in his very literal and true to his word way, come evening Edward was back and trying to act as if nothing had happened sat at one of the Lounge’s bars waiting for Oswald’s company.

Oswald spotted the rapid tapping of his fingers and feet though, the nervous-looking twitching whenever anything moved in his visual or auditory range. For the sake of that teacup it looked as if he might soon crack in his tight grip – One of Jervis’ signature drinks? Well, something soporific might be for the best right now – Oswald excused himself from his current company and made a swift beeline over.

Edward brightened with a sort of relief to see him, sliding his apparently empty cup back across to the bartender. “H-Hey.”

“Good evening.”

Edward started, “Well, you said if I wanted all I had to do was come and state-”

“This is a conversation perhaps better continued in privacy, yes?” Oswald guessed, waving a hand to shush Edward down, not that such a level of enthusiasm wasn’t flattering in its way.

While Edward mouthed an acknowledging, “Oh,” as he noted the other customers around him he’d apparently been very successfully ignoring, Oswald caught the attention of the bartender, indicating to Ama he was heading upstairs for a short while, before leading Edward through to the kitchen and the staircase up to his suite.

Once in private, and back on the comfort of Oswald’s sofa, “I do want to be in a relationship with you, Oswald, if that’s possible without all of the standard things it would entail,” Edward began very bluntly. “But what does it mean then, for you? If I don’t have to say or do anything how is it different to the friendship we currently have, aside from in name?”

Such naive simplicity about the social world to just ask these things so plainly really was adorable sometimes. “Although I would not expect a conventional courting from you, Edward, I would still expect it to be a commitment with concomitant conduct of some sort; spending regular time together, a degree more awareness and involvement in each other’s lives. Or if such things really are too much for you then whatever it is you can offer that would mark our relationship as unique amongst all of your present ones.”

Edward scratched at his cheek thoughtfully, “‘Unique’... I see,” almost endearingly alien-like in his acceptance of the concept. “I’d be happy and able to spend more time with you, Oswald, and become a little more involved in each other’s lives so long as my criminal activities don’t get you in trouble. What sort of thing were you thinking we would do together?”

“What would you be comfortable with?”

“Well, I’d just suggest sex if you asked me,” Edward answered with a degree of blasé Oswald almost had to admire. “That’s why I asked you.”

Although he could simply proceed and answer the main topic, “Just why do you always insist on sex like this? What on Earth can you find so fantastic about it?” Oswald had to ask.

“That’s not the sort of thing you can explain in words,” Edward admitted, leaving off the obvious further method it therefore entailed. He sat back to wait for Oswald to move on, but upon noticing instead Oswald was biting slightly on his lip with a degree of curiosity, “You already compromised to my way of doing things once. It’s really not important nor necessary to understand, certainly not by forcing yourself into something uncomfortable again.”

“I am aware; I’ve managed to go without it for the best part of nearly fifty years now,” Oswald insisted slightly hotly. “My interest only stems from the point of getting to know _you_ better, Edward.” He sat back as well, although with a slightly more uneasy angle as he picked at the crease of his well-pressed trousers, the lint coming off proving they were actually a blue dark enough to look black to inattentive eyes. “Besides, you were... You forced yourself into discomfort for my sake last time, saying what you did.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly...” Edward trailed off, muttering the rest he couldn’t comfortably admit. “It wasn’t really... It’s hardly anything the average person would be praised for managing to do,” he finally managed to put it, although began shifting about in his seat instantly as his discomfort worked its way out physically.

“I know your... particular strengths, Edward, and that saying such a piece isn’t one of them,” Oswald put very diplomatically, causing Edward’s fidgeting to settle a little. “We both engaged in endeavours not effortless for us in pursuit of becoming closer; I would say that is good grounds to justify a relationship even in our intractable situation. Particularly, I do appreciate the unusual seriousness with which you’re treating this situation and what that means concerning your true feelings.” Edward switched to a more simple finger fidget, almost at peace again. “Besides,” Oswald continued more lightly, “I said I wanted to be in a relationship before any further... physical intimacies, and now we are.”

Edward smiled; such naive logic really was adorable sometimes. “Equal compromises then?” he finally suggested. “If neither of us go beyond our comfort zone we don’t stand to make any progress otherwise.” Oswald nodded amenably to that. “Well, what sort of thing are you going to subject me to in order to hold up my end then?”

“Ever the drama queen, aren’t you?” Oswald had to get in, tutting. “Would a simple dinner together be too much to put upon the almighty Riddler? A private one, not at  a public restaurant with your criminal character, obviously.”

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship if you were stupid enough to suggest otherwise.” Edward flashed a grin at him.

“Such high praise,” Oswald accepted dryly. “And afterwards I would be willing to engage in some light...” he forwent saying it for his dignity. “Yes?”

“Sure. I’m free every evening for the next couple of weeks, nothing scheduled that’s likely to get me arrested by that cheating Bat before then.” Edward got his phone out ready to pick a day.

Oswald rolled his eyes upwards with a sigh. “I wonder if Arkham has a policy on conjugal visits...”


	4. The Peacock Who Came to Dinner

“Yes, I know that,” Oswald replied a little snappishly. “But Edward will be expecting something; if he endures his end of our agreement I should really hold up mine. What do you suppose I should tell him I’m comfortable with?”

The peacock in his arms flexed out its tail somewhat, shaking a few further feathers loose and looking round at Oswald with an expectant little squawk to pick them out already.

“I really don’t think he’ll expect me to groom him, E-” The sound of a key Edward had somehow apparently made a copy of opening the front door interrupted, prompting Oswald to frown. “I suppose I should take his eagerness as flattery, do you think?” he asked the peacock before calling out through his mansion, “In here, Edward!”

Navigating through the front hall and rooms to the back lounge, Edward found Oswald sat in the open frame of its large French windows with a peacock in his lap, combing out loose feathers by the looks of it. “Dinner looks a little undercooked,” he noted.

“Dinner would be perfectly on-time, had you been, thank you,” Oswald retorted, holding his peacock a little closer. “And you know I don’t eat bird meat.”

“So what are we having? Did the Penguin cook fish, perchance?” Edward further taunted, coming over to lay himself across stylishly the sofa near the open windows.

Momentarily peeved, both at the joke but mainly how correct it was, before he could reply Oswald was pre-empted by his peacock fluttering from his lap onto the lounge floor in Edward’s direction, cocking its head this way and that as it assessed this new creature, before it flipped up its tail into display mode and started clucking at him piercingly.

“Wh-What’s it doing? Is it going to attack me?” Edward asked, already backing up uncomfortably on the sofa.

“Perhaps,” Oswald mentioned, coming over to try and collect the bird. “Sometimes such a display is a means of attracting a mate,” Edward looked more than slightly uncertain about that, “but this particular kind of behaviour is demonstrated in the presence of a potential competitor.” Now Edward simply looked dryly insulted. “You _are_ in his territory- Oh, come here, Edwyn!” Oswald fussed, trying to scoop up the peacock feathers and all.

“...Oswald,” Edward began, “why does your peacock have a name remarkably similar to mine?”

Smoothing Edwyn’s tail back down now he was settled smugly in Oswald’s arms, “He must not be the only one who confuses you for a male peacock sometimes,” he teased, carrying his baby back outside to release onto the lawn. Edwyn flapped down comfortably, strutting away, while a gaggle of other birds began cheeping and cawing their way over at the sight of Oswald. “I told you all I have company tonight. Shoo now; you have your own food waiting.” He made gestures away in the direction of the assorted structures that took up most of the mansion’s garden for his menagerie to roost in.

“At least tell me you named your vulture after Jonathan or a parrot after Pamela or something,” Edward commented, hiding mostly behind one of the French window doors as he observed the small throng of birds outside reluctantly dispersing at Oswald’s command.

“I still need to put the final vegetables on to steam,” Oswald announced, turning from the French windows he closed to lead on back into the rest of the mansion. “Go wait in the dining room – Head back to the entrance hall, the door past the staircase – unless you want to be fed worms like the early bird you are.”

Though still sulking, Edward obeyed Oswald’s shooing hands – Not that he was as easy to order around as one of the birds, thank you – and departed to the dining room.

Like elsewhere in Oswald’s mansion, or what he could remember of the few times he’d come out to the edge of downtown to visit Oswald here, at base the room’s decor was dark wood bordering on black. The other main colour of this room was a soft, royal blue however compared to the whites and purples he’d seen elsewhere; this was a more relaxing, perhaps sociable colour, as Edward seated himself in one of the two laid places at an end of the rather small dining table. Disturbing then re-straightening the perfectly laid cutlery for something to do, and taking in the room’s sparse artwork, Edward tried to wait patiently and prepare.

Conversation topics – Yes, that was a good idea. Asking about his business was dry surely though- And wait, weren’t you not meant to talk about such things on dates? Don’t mix business with pleasure or something? Was that what that meant? Maybe the album he’d leant then- No, that would come off like he was pestering and make Oswald resent being forced to listen to it. Well, he could hardly discuss what they were going to do later; that was plainly improper during the part meant to be for Oswald, as if he was too eager to move on or something.

Edward was still toying with the cutlery in thought ten minutes later when Oswald entered with a tray of two plates and two glasses. Setting them out onto their appropriate places then taking his own seat, Edward’s attention was taken by the pale, slightly bubbling liquid in the wine glasses.

Opening his mouth to suggest they start, Oswald noticed. “A problem with the perambulatory potation?”

“...Sorry.” Edward’s attention flicked away from the glass to where it should be. “It looks alcoholic and conventionally a romantic dinner has alcohol, but I was considering with how well we know each other that I ought to be able to trust you that it’s not. That kind of trust isn’t... easy for me though, after the things that have happened to me,” he admitted, giving it a glance again.

Oswald opened his mouth again, but instead he watched Edward pick up the glass and by conscious decision bring it to his mouth to drink without taking the chance to even sniff it. Amusing as the rushed swallow was, “...It’s non-alcoholic,” Oswald confirmed for him with a smile before Edward’s anxiety started spiralling about what he might have just swallowed. “Elderflower pressé and lemon.”

Edward considered it again, and nodded.

Setting the glass down so they could finally pick up their cutlery and start on the food, “Spaghetti alla pescatora; you combined our favourite meals.” Noting the frown of assumed teasing that had brought forth, “It’s a very fitting – Touching? – choice for our first... date,” Edward said, picking over the unusual words for him carefully.

“Thank you,” Oswald settled into the meal at ease now. He even had entertainment; “Having trouble?” he noted, a little incredulous and pitiful at the show Edward was making of trying to get the rather slippery food to stay on the back of his fork.

Stabbing into a piece of broccoli petulantly, “I’m not... Table manners were one of the many things my father didn’t bother with when it came to raising me. My mother taught me the basics but-” He started stabbing at the fish unsuccessfully again, “I eat alone, unless I’m in Arkham, mostly while watching YouTube videos on my laptop or TV. This isn’t something I’m particularly... accustomed to,” he finally admitted.

Oswald could have laughed, if he didn’t restrain it to a slightly scoffing grin for Edward’s sake. “I’ve never noticed before.”

“You know I’m good at magic, sleight-of-hand, distracting the audience’s attention and all that. And how often have you seen me eat anything more than salad or a sandwich at the Lounge?” Oswald thought about that. “At Arkham no one cares; the food’s so disgusting that any way you can manage to get it into your mouth is achievement enough.”

“You’re fascinating,” Oswald said, startling Edward into losing all the food off his fork again. “You’re opening up to me. It’s... It surprises me, in more than one way. I do realise the honour it is, and as I said it fascinates me. I didn’t think you were, well... comfortable with anything that portrays you in a negative light,” he chose as carefully as he could. “I don’t want you to be putting yourself in discomfort for my sake, Edward, even if I appreciate the gesture. And you can use the fork the other way up if it’s easier.”

Edward instantly switched to the less fancy, more child-like grip with the tines curving upwards. “I thought the whole point of this evening was we were each putting ourselves in discomfort for one another.”

While it would perhaps be best put another way, “My psychologist taught me about the comfort zone, growth zone and panic zone; I imagine in all your frequent furloughs in Arkham you’ve heard that at least once.” Edward nodded as he ate with grace regardless of not quite matching Oswald’s level of cutlery sophistication. “Besides, I wouldn’t want for you to...” he trailed off, gesturing subtly towards Edward’s head in lieu of a touchy trigger like ‘mental health’.

One uncomfortable hand did run back through Edward’s hair, nails firmly scratching at the skin, but he returned it to his meal with enforced discipline. “...I haven’t ever really heard you mention your psychologist before,” he turned the conversation with obvious emphasis to Oswald.

He sighed lightly. “We only have meetings every three months now, and often have little to discuss these days; forgive me if he’s not on my mind often.”

“...You still see a psychologist?” Oswald noted an almost distrust in Edward’s question- Well, perhaps Arkham made that understandable. “Was that part of your release conditions?”

“For the first three years. Now it’s a matter of choice.” That truly did boggle the Arkham inmate’s mind. “Although I rarely find myself in need of intervention, I do still appreciate the sustained support and simple fact of... well, having someone watch over me, I suppose is the most precise way to phrase it. Like a parent, for once,” he added a little quieter.

Though sulking into his spaghetti somewhat, “...Are you going to talk about me next session?”

Oswald sighed. “I imagine it will come up.”

“Have you told your staff about us, about this date night?”

“As far as my staff at the Lounge know I am simply taking a night off at my mansion, as I do at times,” Oswald clarified. “I presume you wouldn’t be partial to public parlance of our arrangement then?”

“I don’t exactly mind people knowing,” Edward poked at his food. “I do mind they won’t understand, that thanks to _Gotham_ and everything that’s spawned they’ll get all sorts of incorrect ideas about us in their minds. That they’ll...” He decided to trail off. “What will you tell them about me?”

“What would you like me to tell them?”

Edward focused on eating for a moment while thinking, preferring to suck his spaghetti up like a child than boringly twirl it around his fork as Oswald was. “...Nothing for the moment, if you don’t mind that.”

“I don’t,” Oswald promised him.

“Just in case I can’t... we end up...” he fell sadly quiet. “If... If it helps you, if it’s important to you, I don’t mind you discussing this with your psychologist, once I’ve checked how safely he stores his patient data.” Oswald frowned playfully at what that usually meant, but was going to assume in this case Edward had positive reasoning. “I don’t want him meddling and telling us what to do, but if talking to him helps you or whatever...” a little moodily, perhaps jealously Oswald was going to guess, he fell quiet again.

“Thank you. And be assured, I have no desire to have him meddle and instruct us either. It does help me to have someone to reflect upon myself and my actions with however. But I would only be discussing things for the sake of better navigating my own desires and behaviours as we move forward,” Oswald said. “Given neither of us has previous experience with this mistakes are inevitable, but I would like to minimise what we can from a little reflective advice.”

Edward gave enough of a nod to that, focusing on his food now. “So... well... This dinner is your part of tonight; what do you want to talk about?” he volleyed the ball over to Oswald.

Not without Oswald realising what he was doing, but in the interests of enjoying the evening, “So, tell me what ingenious enigmas you have planned for our conurbation’s caped custodian next. Or about the games you used to design; you still work on them as a pastime, don’t you?”

Edward had no further problem with dinner once the conversation was on his work and achievements, opting for both topics in the end. That took them through the main meal and dessert – A couple of fruit and ice cream-based parfaits that blended perfectly with the summer evening air drifting lightly through the house – to washing up Edward insisted he help with, which Oswald nervously hoped wasn’t to get to what was coming after all the quicker.

But as he was putting away the crockery and cutlery, given only he knew their homes, Oswald noted the expectant little grins Edward was giving him as he bobbed on the balls of his feet waiting.

Too many years in the friendship of Jonathan had rendered fear nothing to let get in his way though, “I suppose you wish to head upstairs now?” and Oswald led the way hoping his cool appeared to be being kept. A little difficult when Edward seemed so dang excited about the thing, but rather than give in to fear of the fear itself and all that, “How... ahem, far were you hoping to go tonight?” Oswald asked, hoping for a particular kind of answer as he pushed back the door to his bedroom to allow them in.

“Just whatever you’re comfortable with at this stage,” Edward replied, taking in the rather distinct pale blues and white of the decor in this one room.

Oswald smiled, closing the door behind them despite being alone. “Shall we begin and simply see where satisfaction leads?”

Nodding along, “Arctic,” Edward was still taken with the decor of the room, noticing as he looked round, “You have a four-poster bed! I’ve always wanted to have sex in one of them; oh, the bondage opportunities...” He went over in an investigative way to decipher how the curtaining around the bed worked and how sturdy the frame was.

Meanwhile Oswald simply stood and blushed. “I-I had one growing up, back home in England,” he mentioned, hoping to defuse a little of the sexual tension in the air. “I had a rather white bedroom there as well, although mainly as my parents never felt it necessary to decorate for me...” He noted Edward sat on the wooden footboard watching. “Ah. My apologies. Hardly the best mood setter, yes...”

“Let’s do it on the bed with the curtains closed,” Edward said; “I think it could be rather cool, our own little world,” he enthused too boyishly for this.

Oswald nodded, letting Edward put his deductions to use pulling the curtaining shut all around them on the plush, snowflake-patterned duvet of the bed. He fidgeted with his hands as Edward settled cross-legged in front of him, waiting, “S-So, where do you begin with this sort of...? I’m afraid you’ll have to take the lead as I’m...”

“I don’t really know,” Edward admitted. “I don’t think my first time was a very good example.” Although he’d only mentioned it in jest, since Oswald looked intrigued, “I’d been flirting with Diedre and Nina when we worked together because I liked the attention. When they... I didn’t want to admit I’d never done it before so I played along and let them do what they wanted to me; they took turns pegging me over and over.”

“‘Pegging’?”

Edward leant over, whispering the answer despite everything. His own ears were coloured nearly as pink as Oswald’s when he pulled back. “Since Diedre was a dominatrix and Nina isn’t really into men I just let them do whatever they wanted to me whenever we had sex. Selina always bossed me around too, since she knows what she wants and has sharp claws if she doesn’t get it. Jervis and Jonathan are too inexperienced so I’ve been able to keep ahead of them, and there’s always a couple dozen autistic sensitivities or triggering behaviours to keep in mind whenever we do anything so it’s a very different experience. I don’t really know where two people normally start.”

Oswald really needed to take a moment because, “How... You were so concerned with keeping up appearances that you...?”

“I have the experience and skill to back up those appearances now and more, thank you,” Edward sniffed at any insult in that. “It’s just sex. Everyone has it. I didn’t want to be...” He splayed his tapping fingers out over the bed covers.

“I understand.” Oswald truly did. “And I- Having given this thought I’m very comfortable with you continuing to have other lovers while we’re together, Edward.” Before objections could be made, “I really can’t say if I’ll be able to give you the satisfaction they can, so I’d be very happy if you also need to...”

Edward’s rapid fidgeting increased, shifting his posture under him a few times as he spoke, “They may be fun but this is about something different, Oswald. I... This is... Emotions have never been involved before for me. So I...” He considered Oswald waiting before him, still fidgeting slightly in anticipation and unease. Edward simply opted to lean over, telegraphing briefly before placing a hand on Oswald’s chest, “Can I kiss you?” and then proceeding as soon as Oswald nodded to accept. He lingered just long enough to be romantic without straying into too sexual, pulling back to mention, “Our first kiss really wasn’t that romantic since this was all still... It wasn’t clear if you truly reciprocated or not but...”

“You did possess feelings for me, back then?” Oswald checked with a note of surprise, and an extra one he hadn’t been obvious.

“I... Well, you’ve always been special to me, in the way I feel about people,” Edward sort of shrugged. “I started realising it around then.” Looking as if he’d much rather focus on something else right now, “Are you comfortable with taking any clothes off? I’ve always wanted to see you under all these feathers,” He ran a finger down the edge of Oswald’s muted gold waistcoat, “but if it’s not comfortable for you yet I can wait.”

Oswald shied slightly from the unusual sensation of being touched. “Rather an apt allusion, considering I would have all the aesthetic appeal of a plucked turkey without my ‘feathers’.”

“I’m being genuine.” Seeing he was still yet to convince, “It’s something I’d rather show than tell, how attractive I think you are physically and sexually.”

Nervous but yet daringly curious now, Oswald fiddled his first waistcoat button open in that case. Edward’s hands moved in to take over, “Do you want to undress me?” offering a hint to Oswald’s own shy hands that had backed off uncertainly. Oswald practically snorted his ‘of course’ to that, unfastening Edward’s shirt buttons with a degree more hesitance and reverence. Edward’s eyes were only focused on the peek of skin appearing at the top of his shirt whenever Oswald glanced up to check, taking a moment to remove the unbuttoned waistcoat as Edward pulled his tie loose for him and then silkily through his fingers. “You’re wearing far too much for a winter bird in summer.”

“I’m British; we’re raised immune to weather,” Oswald tutted to deflect his discomfort and Edward’s fair accusation while he removed his monocle and slipped it inside the waistcoat he laid aside.

Edward simply smirked, waiting until suitably polite to resume on Oswald’s shirt buttons now. Oswald distracted himself with finishing Edward’s, reaching the bottom at roughly the same time; he held his shirt together around him while Edward shed his like he couldn’t get out of it fast enough though- And why not with that perfectly slim, ever-so-slightly muscled chest of pale, slightly freckled skin? When Oswald groaned uncertainly, “Come on,” Edward encouraged.

“...Fine.” Slipping it off he tried not to slouch or let his gut hang out, doing everything he could to minimise what a disappointment this was likely to be.

Well, Edward’s expression had gone wide in surprise; not as good as he had anticipated then- “You’re really muscular.” Edward leant in with one exploratory hand. “I mean, I knew you worked out but...”

“It helps make the fat look a little better...” Oswald muttered out, almost wincing at the sight of so many batarang scars and bullet wounds only further marring his body.

Edward was only interested in wrapping his hands around Oswald’s arm though, taking most of both to fit around his bicep. Tensing it up if he was that curious, Edward’s face blushed with arousal, shifting around his lap as he ran his hands up to the shoulder and muscles that went down to form Oswald’s chest. Oswald simply watched as he took it all in with such fixated intrigue, alternating between that almost intimidated blushing from the muscles then a fond smile as his hand curved around the swell of Oswald’s belly. When he could finally pull his gaze away from Oswald’s body, “Are you comfortable with going further?”

After seeing all this he still wanted to go further? “I-I think so.”

“Just say stop at any time,” Edward reassured him as he began on Oswald’s trousers.

Underwear stayed on this time – “No purple ones with penguins? Shame.” “I told you those were a gag gift.” – and Edward’s hands roamed in other places. Oswald’s chose to settle on the bed as a grounding point while he let himself be explored and tried not to jump or fidget at the sensations of Edward toying with his nipples or dragging teeth up the side of his neck. Sensations like Edward running his fingertips lightly and sensuously down the length of Oswald’s arm, though pleasant, felt an overwhelming akin to tickling, while nails running up the back of his neck and pulling gently at his hair simply sent his body into an ambivalent shudder.

When the weight of Edward’s erection came to rest on his thigh though Oswald finally pulled back slightly, enough to give Edward pause and a moment in which to look down at Oswald’s lap. “Sorry...” Oswald muttered, shifting his thighs together and having to look away.

Edward simply blinked, a blank confusion overtaking his face and growing to a consternated frown as he took in Oswald’s whole body. “Is it...? Are you not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry,” Oswald muttered more bitterly. “I’m obviously just... broken.” He waved a hand in Edward’s direction, apologising and hoping to push him away.

“No, you’re not broken.” Edward crawled after him, laying reassuring hands on Oswald’s arms.

“Please,” Oswald insisted, twitching again at the unusual sensation of being touched by another human being. “You’re so experienced; the problem must be with me if it’s not working-”

“No, the solution must just be different with you. It’s a different puzzle to solve.”

Oswald looked at him a little flatly. “I’m not sure quite how to feel about being compared to a puzzle to solve.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I really love puzzles,” Edward played back, ignoring that Oswald still didn’t look that convinced. “It’s just... sex with feelings must be different, I see.” His gaze lifted up from Oswald’s body to meet his, causing Oswald to flush slightly and look aside. Cupping Oswald’s face by the cheeks, Edward pulled him gently into a lingering but chaste kiss, holding eye contact the best he could as he pulled back. “Don’t you want to touch me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Of course!” Edward laughed lightly, before looking down at Oswald’s uncertain and unusual hands, “...Oh,” and swallowing uncomfortably as he realised where such reticence must be coming from.

Oswald shied away, trying to hide them behind him.

Edward slid his own hands down to them, leading them back and onto the plain skin of his chest, right where Oswald could feel his heart beating for him.

Trying not to blush embarrassingly at Edward smiling at him like that, Oswald dared to leave his hands there as Edward’s released them, then slide them slowly and cautiously up around Edward’s neck when he received no resistance. Edward only responded by leaning forward to kiss him again, eagerly responding when Oswald tested pulling him closer.

Sat in each other’s laps, kissing with arms wrapped around one another, Edward did take a moment to pull back and grin when he felt Oswald’s erection brush his and cause Oswald to jolt back in mild shame, but otherwise they remained happy with this much tonight together.

It devolved into conversation eventually, and Oswald asking, “Was that satisfying enough for you? I know you must have been expecting far more-”

“It was. There are different sorts of satisfaction,” Edward responded with a light tone that suggested the idea was still quite new to him.

Though hardly decorum, Oswald supposed he could sleep like this tonight if they were going to be sharing a bed in this sort of summer weather once Edward had made it clear he wanted to stay the night.

“You’d better not sleep-riddle,” Oswald warned as he climbed into bed for the night where Edward had already made himself comfortable. “Or snore puzzles in Morse code.”

“Please. I’m too perfect for that,” Edward retorted, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head to show off his mostly bared body.

“You’re certainly...” Oswald trailed off as he got comfortable as well. “If you are my type then I do not find it surprising I’ve never held true feelings for anyone else I’ve ever encountered,” he finished cryptically when Edward’s raised eyebrow insisted.

Edward smirked in a way that suggested he could parse that nonetheless, lying down on his side facing Oswald to simply look at him very deeply.

Oswald smirked back, then caught something creeping into Edward’s expression the longer he looked at Oswald; something almost... scared? “Edward?”

“Mm?” It disappeared in an instant.

“...Thank you,” Oswald settled for instead, reaching out to place his hand on one of Edward’s. That something almost looked as if it was back as Edward looked down at that. “I truly do appreciate your patience with me.”

Then it was gone again when he looked up where Oswald could see him. “‘Sensual’ is an essential part of ‘consensual’,” he simply said, looking ready to lay down to sleep. He went to turn over, then didn’t, instead asking, “Could you turn the light off?”

“Certainly.” Oswald reached for his bedside light, plunging the room into summer’s near darkness. Edward had pulled the light covers up by the time he turned back, already facing away to sleep; the whole thing seemed so child-like in some way Oswald couldn’t help but smile.

Laying down himself, Oswald quickly found a body pushed up against his insistently to hold. Sighing, he wrapped an arm around the needy, little so-and-so, hoping Edward wasn’t going to be a hyperactive fidget here as well.

~#~

Oswald awoke to curious green eyes watching him, ones that put him rather too much in mind of that one morning Selina had broken in looking for somewhere to lie low after a heist and one of her cats had decided the spare pillow on Oswald’s bed was the only appropriate bed for it.

Pushing himself up slightly, and frowning Edward was so perky as to already be up and cheerfully smirking at 7am, “Good morning...” Oswald muttered out, running a hand back through his probably horribly mussed hair.

“You tuck up in your sleep, just like a real penguin,” was Edward’s first contribution to the new day.

“Defensive habit,” Oswald mumbled, in a hurry to get out of bed and use the bathroom.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have to get up at any point during the night,” Edward commented as he watched; “I thought people of your age needed to pee two or three times a night.”

Oswald paused at the en suite door long enough to give his cheeky bedwarmer quite the warning look, before shutting the door behind him with what sounded like some very British swearing under his breath.

Edward was still lying there when Oswald returned, stretched out with the covers off on his back and managing to take up the whole double bed by himself somehow, and still grinning eagerly. “Is there any time of the day you’re not ‘on’?” Oswald enquired, simply coming to stand leant against one of the bed’s four posters.

“I don’t really work like that, on a daily cycle; I’m either awake and energised all day and night, or tired and lethargic all day and night. Something to do with,” Edward waved a finger vaguely in the direction of his head. Oswald raised an eyebrow, assuming he was talking about his slightly bipolar nature. Edward appeared to guess, quickly moving onto, “Breakfast? Or do you want to cuddle for a while?”

Oswald opted for a hemming, “Well, I’m not very adjusted to awakening at such a time, running a night club and all. Although I suppose now that you have me up...” He was betrayed by a slight twitch as one of Edward’s hands reached out and came to rest on his arm, merely testing.

“You’re not very used to being touched by other people, are you?” Edward assessed.

“If we discount Batman’s brutal batterings and his police associates, then no, not particularly.” Oswald flinched free from the current touch.

“Is that why you cuddle with your penguins and other birds? Because you’re touch-starved?”

Bristling slightly in that way that looked like a bird fluffing up, “They are my personal family, and intelligent enough to be able to appreciate such gestures... and perhaps my being a little touch-starved is also part...”

Smirking at such a reluctant admission, “Come here,” Edward knelt up in front of him, arms open in far too wide a presentation of a hug.

“This is demeaningly patronising,” Oswald pointed out cantankerously, but submitted anyway as Edward gave him no choice and started pulling him back down towards the bed.

“After breakfast do you want to share a shower?” Edward proposed in a tone light enough for Oswald to hope he was joking.

“You truly are an incubus, you know that?”

“Oh, you’ve read that _Gotham_ fanfic?” Edward teased happily, getting up to follow as Oswald shook him off and left in the direction of the kitchen for some well-needed caffeine. “I’ve also read one where you were a harpy- Oh, and there’s one where you’re a werepenguin! Sadly both of those are ones where you’re with Jim instead of me- Honestly, you and Jim is such a weird thought in real life, even if it almost works on _Gotham_...” Oswald groaned under the sound of Edward’s rambling continuing on.

When he finally got a chance, “Is every morning with you going to be of this nature?” Oswald asked.

“Is that a problem?” Edward cheeked back, trotting down the stairs after him.

Oswald sighed fondly, collecting up Edwyn the peacock who had come in via the backdoor bird-flap and also started expectantly clucking at him. “I suppose it’s something I can live with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfics mentioned at the end of this chapter are real ones if you're interested in any: [Incubus](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14328081/chapters/33063318), [Harpy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/258436), [Werepenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867766/chapters/11157647).
> 
> Next time, these two are getting remarkably domestic while Oswald has a certain appointment to keep...


	5. Domesticity and the Doctor

“Working already?”

Oswald looked up from the small sheet in front of him, pen in the hand not holding his mug of tea pausing, at where Edward was still crouched in front of his oven looking utterly the child who was determined to watch the oven like a TV until the food was cooked. “It’s something called a puzzle; you might be familiar with them,” he sassed back, enjoying that surprised and instantly rapt expression on Edward’s face looking at him. “Marco, one of my bartenders, purchases those puzzle-a-day calendars for me each Christmas; it gives me something to do over breakfast alone usually.”

“Oh? You haven’t done them the other couple of mornings we’ve spent together. To what do I owe this new seduction technique?” he asked, looking every bit genuinely turned on despite his joke.

Oswald snorted lightly at him. “I won’t be at the Lounge today; I brought it along with my actual work to complete while here instead.”

Waiting just a few extra seconds for good luck, Edward switched off the oven and got breakfast ready, bringing over the tray of English muffins he’d learnt to call crumpets so as not to offend Oswald and condiments to the table. He sat deliberately close, trying to get a good look at the puzzle’s progress.

Oswald swiftly moved it away, leaning forward to take crumpets and honey as a further barrier. “If I let you take a look there won’t be anything left to solve,” he tutted.

“Puzzles and I are like two poles of a magnet; you won’t keep us apart,” Edward began far too grandiosely, also taking his own crumpets with butter. “...At least let me try your monocle on.” Then in response to the bizarre look he received wondering how the topic had jumped to that, “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like. You can try my glasses on in return; they have a built-in optical zoom, infrared and UV detection.”

If they were asking things they’d always been curious about, “Does your eyesight actually need correction?”

“Of course not,” Edward preened. “But intelligence is the new sexy, not that I need the help in either area, and they’re just fun,” he added with a note of whimsy.

Sighing, Oswald removed the monocle from his right eye to hand over with some brief instructions how to wear it, not that its personalised shape would fit Edward’s eye socket anyway, before returning to the sudoku with his good eye pulling most of the weight.

As Edward fussed and mused about installing similar technology in the monocle, both apologised for the mess they were making with the sticky, drip-happy condiments and the more house-trained birds clucked and pecked at their food over in a corner of the kitchen, Oswald took a moment simply to appreciate the domestic mix of peace and chaos he’d never truly known before. Perhaps Edward was more fascinated with the monocle and himself with the puzzle, and the birds were hardly the actual children he dreamt of, but it was something, right? This was what a family was like in some small way?

Once he was done fiddling with the monocle’s thin, black silver chain, and handed it back to Oswald, “...So why aren’t you going to the Lounge today?” Edward asked.

Oswald accepted the rather sticky monocle back, wiping it off on a napkin before replacing it on his eye. “I have my appointment with my psychologist today.” Noting the instant wariness, “I always take the evening off after my sessions. I didn’t realise it was this week when I arranged last night’s date night. You are welcome to come around again later today, if you wish; we could Netflix and Chill, as I believe the kids say.” Even he couldn’t resist needing to chuckle at how ridiculous that sounded coming from his mouth.

Edward was barely holding it together beside him. “Mmhm, sure!” he just about managed, having to laugh before he settled down and asked, “So what did you want to watch together?”

“I know what that means, Edward, thanks to a certain little birdie,” Oswald shot back, smirking triumphantly as Edward looked utterly betrayed. “Of course if you have plans for today-”

“I am working on something, but I can probably...” He drummed his fingers very rapidly on the tabletop before forcibly halting them, focusing on mopping up the butter and jam on his plate with his last crumpet. “Okay. The part I’m filming shouldn’t take that long. I’ll come here once I’m done.”

“Filming?” Oswald asked, defending himself with, “You know what I’ll be engaged in while we’re apart today. Is merely taking an involved interest in my... partner? Lover? What shall I call you later, or would you prefer I avoid a label if possible?”

“If possible.” Edward looked down at Edwyn waiting impatiently for his crumbs at Edward’s feet, disdainfully snubbing the bird to take his plate to the sink. “I suppose ‘boyfriend’ is all right... That gives casual implications, while we’re still working this out ourselves.” He began filling the sink with water, finding the gloves and washing-up liquid without help by now.

“I also enjoy that it makes us sound considerably younger than we actually are,” Oswald observed as he joined to dry up.

Putting the first dishes in the sink, “The filming is for a project I’ve been working on for a while,” Edward answered plainly. “I’m going to doubt you know the band OK Go, given they’re quite modern and you’re,” He simply grinned at Oswald’s peeved frown. “Their music videos are extremely extravagant and creative; I’ve been working on something similar, a little more puzzle-based, for my finale as the Riddler one day. It’s complicated to explain what it’s going to be, but I love how much elaborate set-up they do just for four moments of pure reality-breaking astoundment. But of course I’m going to surpass even them, as is only fitting for the Riddler. It just takes a long time designing and getting all the individual shots for it.”

Oswald kept a firm grip on the mug he was currently drying. “Your ‘finale as the Riddler’?” The open question, and everything that came with it, hung in the air unanswered. “Is there... a significance to the fact you’re currently working on it?” he added carefully, setting the dried mug down before he got an answer.

Edward simply kept on washing though, gaze very focused in front of him. Finally, “It’s nowhere near finished at the moment,” he said with the sort of tone one changed a subject with. “There’s more to it than just the video as well, treasure hunts I need to set up that are a part of the whole bigger picture. But it’s something I’ve been working on more lately, since I can hardly join you for these date nights if I get stuck in Arkham again by challenging the Bat.”

Though he had any number more questions, Oswald quietly accepted the next mug Edward handed to him to dry. “Well, my appointment is at one; I’ll be back here by three at the latest, just for your reference.”

“I’m holding you to that Netflix and Chill joke,” Edward warned, brightening back up again.

~#~

Oswald watched from behind his favoured stairwell corner for a rather harried-looking woman to descend and leave without seeing him before climbing the stairs himself, finding Dr. Aronson waiting at the top still holding open the doorway of his waiting room. “Oswald.”

“Good afternoon,” Oswald greeted, allowing himself to be gestured through into the actual office, noting that favourite sign of his over the door – ‘I’m no Frasier Crane, but I’m not Jonathan Crane either’ – was still there.

“Still shy?” Oswald rolled his eyes as Dr. Aronson moved across the room to his own seat, taking up his notepad and an extra sheet of paper not normally a part of their sessions Oswald eyed. “Do we have something particular to talk about this time?” he began with a knowing tone.

Eyeing the sheet of notes, not that he could read it, Oswald took a guess, “You’ve seen the news, I presume?”

“Which news would that be, Oswald? The footage of you kissing the Riddler all over social media? Or the photos of you meeting with Robin Lord Taylor?” To answer Oswald’s interest in the extra sheet, “I went digging back through your case file for the discussions we’ve had about _Gotham_ – Well, the serious ones, and I’d just like to note at this point I’m terribly jealous you got to meet one of the show’s actors right now – as well as anything I could find about any romantic or sexual relationships of yours that you’ve mentioned,” Dr. Aronson explained. “You know, we’ve practically never discussed that aspect of your life before. I hope you’ll understand if I’m particularly interested in that fact.”

“You wouldn’t be a psychologist if you weren’t,” Oswald agreed wryly, sighing. “I really don’t know if we’ll manage to discuss everything pertinent and presently problematic within this one session.”

“Well, I can imagine we might discussing this for a while to come,” Dr. Aronson said, clarifying, “Are you secretly dating Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot?” As Oswald rolled his eyes again, readying himself for this, “You know I’ve been struggling for patients, since you won’t let me publicise I treat you. At least give me this so I can sell it to the tabloids behind your back.”

With a groan, “Oh very well... I suppose Edward and I are... Yes, we’re something,” he granted. “Only as of the past few weeks, mind. We don’t have a good label for what it is, nor do Edward and I want you meddling in our arrangement. But I would appreciate advice and an amenable ear, given this is the first time I’ve ever truly been in any true form of relationship.”

Dr. Aronson simply stared at him with raised eyebrows for a moment, before settling down with the simple comment, “I see what you meant about fitting this all into one session.” While he tapped his pen, unable to even decide where to begin on his notes for this, “So, you weren’t involved when you kissed in front of everyone?”

“No. Although I believe we had developed and realised we had some form of feelings for each other.”

“But the two of you now have pursued something real that you _don’t_ want to share with the public?”

“Edward seems very uneasy in that regard, and I must say I have no desire to go shouting it from rooftops given our infamy and the popularity of our ‘ship’.”

Dr. Aronson smiled at that mild bit of Oswald’s displeasure. “And where does Robin Lord Taylor fit into all this?”

Oswald sighed. “He reached out to me after that interview where I portrayed my rather positive preference for his depiction of myself; the meeting was simply one of friendship and curiosity, although I will grant the opportunity for discussion helped resolve me in regards to Edward.”

“Replaced by an actor of all things,” his psychologist tutted jokingly. “And so? You finally pursued Edward after that?”

“Not precisely. I did attempt increased contact with him but it was him that made the first move, as it were.”

“Why not you? You’re not normally one for inaction if you want something. I’d say the many art galleries and banks of Gotham you’ve stolen from over the years can attest to that.”

Though that did make him smile, “I suppose I should get the matter of my past romantic experiences out of the way, yes?” Oswald said in answer to that.

As swiftly as he could without underselling the extent of what had happened to him, Oswald recounted his past as he had to Edward, the script he’d prepared repeated once again almost identically. It also made sense to recount an overview of what had transpired with Edward so far in continuation. He tried not to be bothered by Dr. Aronson making notes on all this, knowing it was simply for his own future reference and all that, but he hoped a little prickliness would be forgiven after making himself feel such a spectacle with all this.

At the end Dr. Aronson simply hummed and ahh-ed as he tried to find one of his cavalier jokes. Oswald sat quietly, having had enough of volunteering information for now. “...Do you remember what you said when I first began helping you, Oswald?” Dr. Aronson finally said in response to that.

Oswald frowned, trying to. “That I accused you of agreeing to waste our Blackgate sessions with small talk being ingratiation so you could make progress with me? Or the Danny DeVito depiction of myself we discussed as our first topic?”

He got a chuckle. “I was referring to when you voluntarily submitted yourself to Blackgate and asked for my help to reform, but I’m flattered you considered those couple of years we wasted their money and our time talking nothing and making fun of my other patients ‘help’.” Oswald flushed slightly at the slight mistake he’d made. “When I asked why you wanted to finally reform, you said that you wanted to do so because you wanted to be ‘likeable’, yes?”

“It sounds so childish when you say it back...” Oswald muttered.

“You wanted proper friends in your life you said, people you could be vulnerable with as I put it,” Dr. Aronson said, leaning forward on one knee. “We’ve certainly achieved that now, and I’d say a relationship such as this is simply the natural next extension of that.”

“A family...”

“Hmm?”

“A f-family; it’s like that, having a romantic partner, correct?” Oswald checked, flexing his hands a little awkwardly in his lap. “The other rogues and my staff are one sort of family but... I,” he started, interrupting but then continuing anyway when gestured to. “I... This morning when we were sat having breakfast together, some of my birds in the kitchen with us, it felt very ‘domestic’,” Oswald admitted, again feeling so naively child-like.

He waited, expecting some psychologist insight into such a desire in light of his completely atrocious and neglectful birth family. “...Breakfast, you say? Then you spent the night together,” Dr. Aronson said instead, grinning inappropriately.

Oswald sighed, running a hand over his face.

“I am interested by how you say this whole relationship began,” the doctor said on a more professional note. “I must say I’ve never heard of any successful relationship beginning by trading sex for favours before the relationship part has even begun, but perhaps I should get out more.”

“I explained my reasoning for my actions on both occasions,” Oswald said, not wishing to revisit it if possible.

“Edward wasn’t only interested in forging a sexual relationship with you though,” Dr. Aronson mentioned. He put up with Oswald’s quizzical, doubtful frown, clarifying, “Well, every instance of him coming to the Lounge simply to talk with you for one. But that second time, the things you said he shared with you concerning his adolescence and musical interest sound significant to me.”

“Well, yes...” Oswald tentatively agreed with that, his embarrassment enough to betray he hadn’t considered that. “You’ll forgive me a little suspicion; Edward is not the type who becomes emotionally close to others, you will have to take my word for. He maintains a number of personal riddles about himself for the express purpose of keeping even friends at a distance of mystery.”

“And you’re never going to let him change as a person?” Dr. Aronson challenged.

“I-It’s not a matter of that,” Oswald defended; “he’s not the sort to change on a matter like this.”

“Why not? He’s a human being; they’re a sort who changes a lot, I think the Penguin would find.” Said Penguin pulled quite a face about being corrected in such a way. “Have you heard of the concept of love languages?” Dr. Aronson moved to a different track. “There’s no need for the specifics, but different people have different ways of showing love; while you could be off the hook since it sounds as if Edward might have an uncommon one possibly, there’s still no reason you can’t learn to speak it. It sounds as if he’s been trying to learn yours, coming for dinner and such.”

Oswald folded his arms defensively about that, soon managing to calm any personal insult back to a calm humility. “Do you think they’re riddles, the information about his past and the CD?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Aronson made quite clear. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Now Oswald laughed. “You can’t ask the Riddler that sort of thing; it’s part of the riddle.”

He made his psychologist groan, rubbing at his face. “He loves you, or so you think,” Dr. Aronson began, making Oswald blush slightly; “I’d think he’d give you an answer to something as simple as that, since he seems very in the habit of making sure everyone in hearing distance knows he has a riddle for them the rest of the time.” That raised a laugh now. “Have you listened to the CD he gave you yet?”

“Ah, not as of yet.”

“Why not?”

Oswald inhaled uneasily. “Fear I won’t be able to solve the riddle, if it is such a thing. Or that I won’t like it.”

“Fear of losing the relationship?” Dr. Aronson diagnosed. “A fear that had the both of you avoiding even getting into the relationship you both so obviously wanted in the first place?” Oswald cleared his throat, not dignifying his shame with speech. “Is that why you’re being so permissive regarding his other sexual partners? Not too many people would preface sex with encouraging their partner to continue pursuing other sexual partners,” he clarified.

“I simply feared... Given my lack of experience, I feared being unable to satisfy him,” Oswald picked his way through with as much dignity as he could hold onto. “I simply thought that if he still had access to more competent partners he might not...”

“Despite him even telling you that sex with you meant something entirely new and unique to him?”

“While he might be willing to... There must be a limit of poor performance he would willingly tolerate. It simply seemed safer...” Dr. Aronson had leant forward, watching the hole Oswald was digging himself into with bemusement. “I-I worried I perhaps went a little far in rebuffing him that second time, when he asked me to reciprocate. I felt perhaps leniency was in order, in light of what sex apparently means to him... I was correct to refuse him that time, yes?” Oswald asked, obviously in need of the validation.

“Of course; you had every right to refuse an act that was uncomfortable for you. That said,” Oswald looked up uneasily, almost too like a child awaiting correction, “this fixated assumption of yours that Edward had no feelings for you was perhaps a little far.”

“He hadn’t- At that point he hadn’t yet...” Oswald’s fused fingers tapped impatiently. “I’m rather disposed to distrust in the domain of romantic and sexual arrangements,” he admitted. “But that... was unfair perhaps, yes.”

“And perhaps an apology is due, yes?” Dr. Aronson suggested. “Tonight, when you’re asking him if he’s set any form of riddle for you and trying to learn how he expresses affection maybe?”

Oswald rolled his eyes, but his smile suggested he had taken the suggestion onboard.

Dr. Aronson waited a moment, observing his patient. When Oswald noted this behaviour and inclined his head, “Why Edward?” Dr. Aronson asked.

“I thought these things were generally accepted to be without rationale, as it were,” Oswald put off, thrown a little to the ropes by that question.

“Well, perhaps. But beyond pure, biological chemistry I would say most of us could point to some reasoning that makes that individual special to us in some way, that makes us trust them with the most precious things such as our bodies and deepest feelings and thoughts.”

Oswald hummed a supposing hum, taking his time to give it some thought. Eventually, “When I submitted myself voluntarily, for my reform,” he said, “I never mentioned that Edward was the one I talked the decision over with, did I?”

“No,” Dr. Aronson agreed, quite intrigued now.

“I suppose he seemed... We hated one another initially,” Oswald began at the beginning. “Complementary skills and more complimentary conversations led to us forming an alliance, then a friendship, and then... I really can’t explain it. But while I was in Blackgate that year for my reform, Edward was the one who visited me in disguise each month, who sent gifts and concessionary money.”

“Ah, I did wonder who those visitors of yours were; no wonder my sleuthing turned up nothing if they were aliases.” Oswald frowned if that was really proper practice for a psychologist. “The prison informed me of them, to make sure you weren’t being exposed to bad influences.” That earned a chuckle.

“I don’t believe I could have made it through that time without Edward’s support,” Oswald continued. “Without knowing I had one person willing to go to such lengths and who also believed it was a good idea; he said that he didn’t wish to see me suffer anymore, that I could be more than a criminal now, that I could finally have the sort of life I had always wanted to so I at least ought to be able to take it.”

Dr. Aronson raised an eyebrow there. “Does Edward want to reform? Or have a different life of some sort?”

“He had one, something I never did having taken up crime practically my very first job out of university. It wasn’t viable for him, however, that other life, a normal life,” Oswald said sadly. “I couldn’t say what he wants now, truly. But I’m prepared to be with him whatever his lifestyle is.”

After considering that a bit longer, then checking the time which was almost up after Oswald’s rather detailed recounting earlier in the session, Dr. Aronson asked finally, “Why do you think it’s Edward of anyone? Don’t think, just answer.”

Oswald took a moment, but upon command uttered, “He’s tragic, how he has to wrap himself in riddles and keep even his friends at bay.”

“You want to be allowed into his protective layer of riddles?”

“No, I... I just want him to feel he can trust us enough to allow his friends in, so he can have someone close rather than being all alone in life. He’s...” Oswald hesitated, but the words just wanted to come out now, “He’s very alone in a lot of ways, from his incredible intelligence to his solitary lifestyle and childhood pain. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Just as you were, albeit with a protective layer of ruthless anger instead?” Oswald nodded, realising now. “Just be careful you aren’t projecting, Oswald,” Dr. Aronson warned, startling him slightly; “the two of you have been exposed to quite similar circumstances here in Gotham, yet Edward seems to have retreated further into emotional isolation to cope while you found it an opportunity to make your first friends. Attempts to get closer may be counterproductive unless made in the right way.” Oswald considered that, then nodded he understood. “Also, I charge double my normal rate for couple’s therapy, since there are two of you,” Dr. Aronson said more lightly.

“You don’t offer couple’s therapy,” Oswald pointed out.

“Eh. How hard can it be?”

“Reassuring. I believe I am lucky Edward made it quite clear he has no interest in involving you in our arrangement.” Dr. Aronson shrugged that you couldn’t blame him for trying. “I hope you don’t mind if I continue to discuss my relationship in our sessions, going forward.”

“I can see I’m going to be hearing a lot about Edward Nygma for the foreseeable future. No, I don’t mind,” he made clear.

“Thank you.” Oswald took notice of the time as well, getting up to leave before the next patient might come and possibly see him.

“You’re the one paying the lease here.”

Oswald saw himself out, pausing to smile at the doorway. “Well, I have to keep you in business, don’t I?”

~#~

Edward turned up in the late afternoon, a sensible time really to have a light dinner together whilst watching something – “I know you said you know what it means, but I haven’t got around to watching the fourth season of _Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_ yet and your mother’s in it,” Edward explained.

“My mother?!” Oswald was caught between utter perplexion and a deep fury just at the mention of-

“Well, your TV mother; Carol Kane,” Edward waved off the minor difference.

Oswald sighed. “I wish Carol Kane were my mother...” But fine, given Edward offered to help cook this time. “There were some questions I wanted to ask you, actually,” Oswald began as they made their way to the kitchen.

“Oh no. You let that psychologist of yours meddle after all.”

“It wasn’t meddling, merely the giving of good advice,” Oswald debated. “Such as... I’m sorry, for rebuffing you as harshly as I did that time you asked me to reciprocate down in your work room; for all I had a right to say no, I went too far in presuming you to have no feelings for me because of it.”

“That’s all right,” Edward shrugged off, seeming uncomfortable.

Oswald watched him instantly seek out the fridge, taking out mushrooms and other vegetables for the salad. “You know, when you respond in such ways I can’t help thinking my assumption was right and you simply don’t wish to say so.”

“No, it’s not that,” Edward admitted. “Just that... I don’t really like... My behaviour about the whole thing could have been better as well,” he managed, throwing himself into thoroughly washing vegetables straight after.

Oswald gave him a moment, before following up, “I intend to listen to that album you gave me later- Or not tonight, I suppose. But tomorrow maybe. I’m... I’m sorry for not doing so earlier; it’s simply that I feared it was some sort of riddle I wouldn’t be able to solve and... It’s not a riddle, correct?”

“Hmm? The CD I gave you?” Edward looked round, head cocked slightly. “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so?” Oswald asked, laughing a little incredulously.

“Sometimes... Well, I set a lot of riddles. Muscle memory, and all that.”

“You mean it might be a subconscious riddle?” Edward gave no reply, only focused on peeling the carrots. Oswald sighed. “My psychologist advised me that I ought to make an effort to learn how you express affection, Edward, so that I don’t miss any that’s intended. Would you help teach me?”

Edward shrugged. “All right, but I don’t think I express it in ways that are that unusual, are they?”

“Perhaps I’m expecting unusual ways so missing the usual ones,” Oswald chuckled.

“You’re overthinking me,” Edward preened in amusement.

“You’re the Riddler; I’m merely taking safe precaution.”

Now Edward laughed. “I’m trying to be more Edward than the Riddler with you, since you said that’s how you think of me. This is new to me though.”

“Being yourself?” Oswald asked, then regretted the flash of all Edward’s humour dropping from his face as the words sank in. “Sorry. I just... don’t want you to have to be lonely, Edward, that’s all,” he confessed.

Edward was quiet for a long moment, methodically peeling the carrot in his hands. Eventually he smiled a softened smile, “It’s okay; I don’t mind being lonely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oswald has the one of the most unethical psychologists in Gotham, barring the ones who put on costumes and started running around the streets committing crimes.
> 
> You probably know the band OK Go for their treadmill-based music video for '[Here It Goes Again](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dTAAsCNK7RA&t=0s&list=PL0FB9262CF878A34A&index=18)'. They feel like the kind of band my version of Edward would be into, both musically and their videos. I'd recommend something like 'I Won't Let You Down' or 'Obsession' further up the playlist to see the scale they reach with their videos.


	6. A Salve for Your Scars

Fat.

Oswald put his hands together underneath the swell of his stomach, holding it, and tried not to grimace he could barely see his hands beneath it when he looked down.

“There was a piece of psychological research,” Edward suddenly spoke up from behind him. Oswald looked up at the mirror in front of him, at Edward over his shoulder lying so slim and confident across the bed watching; “people only pursue romantic and/or sexual partners they consider to be the same rough attractiveness level as them.” The ginger imp began to grin. “I know you want to admit really, that you think you are attractive, Oswald, but you’ve been conditioned to be, what? Guilty about thinking that? Ashamed?”

Oswald bounced a scowl off the mirror at him, looking again as his naked body and trying to hold his nerve. “I suppose... there’s nothing inherently wrong with my physical personage, peculiar though it may be,” he dared to say, chewing his lip slightly. “Everyone else seems to believe otherwise, however- Well, nearly everyone.”

“Yes, but have you seen the sort of people they sleep with and marry?” Edward summed up his opinion on that with a deeply loathing, “Ugh.”

Holding his gaze on his reflection, or the slightly less ‘unique’ parts of it at least, Oswald spared a glance back at Edward’s near-flawless body before returning to his own. “...I’m sorry,” he began, a little haltingly, “that you’re always having to endure my inadequacy issues, the impact that they have on us, Edward.”

“Oh? That sounds as if you’re finally turning a well-needed corner on this,” Edward chimed playfully from the bed.

Oswald only turned to him with a loving smile though. “Even I can’t construct a way to phrase this diplomatically, so you will have to forgive me any affront caused.” That caused Edward to raise a bemused eyebrow, expectantly smirking at what this terribly insulting piece Oswald had to speak might be. “I have to admit that you’ve... surprised me, since we began our...” He gestured at their relationship, or whatever Edward wished to call it. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be, considering the help you gave me regarding my reform and during my time in Blackgate, but you’re a remarkably caring and loving person despite the reputation of pure egotism and selfishness everyone paints you with. I’m sorry for not appropriately appreciating that actuality until this point.”

With an almost cat-like coolness, Edward frowned as he muttered, “I’m hardly... I think you’re exaggerating, really...” picking at Oswald’s duvet cover.

“You prefer the reputation they paint you with?” He stopped short of asking if Edward actually encouraged it with his own behaviour, not liking to think what such an aloof, lonely idea would mean. “You _are_ loving, Edward – Or I feel loved at least – I’m only finally beginning to realise the form it takes in your patience and loyalty-”

Edward interrupted with laughter, fingers twitching on the duvet cover now. “I think you’re the first person who’s _ever_ used those words in relation to me!” He pulled himself up to sitting, still unashamed in his nudity but filled with an anxious energy. “Is this all about what that doctor of yours said? ‘Love languages’ or whatever buzzword he trained you to use?”

“A little, yes. But perhaps you don’t know how much I struggle to read you and your actions at times, Edward,” Oswald admitted. “I wouldn’t want some standard substitution; your uniqueness is one of the traits I find most appealing about you. I only want to understand how to understand you, as it were.”

Edward appeared to be quietly digesting that for a moment. Then, in a moment, his human vulnerability slipped away into that dramatic poise of his Riddler persona; “Well, I suppose if you wanted to date the Riddler of all people then you have to enjoy the challenge of an enigma,” he said with cocky grin, perfectly posed posture and a challenging little incline of his head.

Oswald was really going to hope that hadn’t been a pun on Edward’s name in there. He held his gaze on Edward a moment longer, hoping to break back through to that vulnerable man he’d almost made progress with, before turning back to the mirror to examine his body again with all the confidence he could muster.

Before he realised, Edward was slinking up behind him across the bedroom, eventually stopping with his elbows settled on Oswald’s shoulders as he leant on them – And the top of Oswald’s much lower head – considering. “...I’m going to teach you how to do a striptease to show you how sexy you are,” he finally announced.

Oswald spluttered before he could even give that idea the laughter that deserved, it being nearly the last thing he expected to suddenly hear. “I believed the point of a striptease was for you to demonstrate that fact to the _other_ person.”

Ignoring the attempts at humour to get out of this, “Now, normally with male stripper technique they make it all about the crotch as that’s the only nudity area on the male body but it’s really not that sexy to focus there – I mean, for all I love them penises are pretty ridiculous looking if we’re being truthful – As, sadly, with female technique the conventions teach you to turn yourself into a piece of meat because we’re taught to find that kind of sexualisation sexy in this culture, but it’s also really not.”

“Should I ask the reason you happen to know so much about striptease technique?” Oswald interrupted, merely to make another slightly humorous point.

“The focus ought to be on other areas such as the face and how you can perform personality through your body and movements,” Edward continued undeterred; “anyone can have mathematically well-proportioned flesh, but personality creates that unique allure that brings you back. That’s the real sexual magic.”

“Are you saying that I need to rely on my personality to be attractive, that my body isn’t sufficient?” Oswald asked.

“Stop being deliberately obtuse.” Edward messed his black hair up just for that, causing Oswald to squawk and fuss. “I’m saying that you make your body attractive, both in general and in your specific case; your appeal for me lies in how you carry yourself and create such presence even when you’re often smaller than everyone in the room, Oswald.” He turned around, going to fetch his phone, while Oswald shifted to a less comfortable and natural posture now he was consciously thinking about it-

Suddenly Edward span around, wordlessly panicking as he stared at where Oswald was looking, if he had seen- “I already knew, Edward,” Oswald reassured him, still considering his own body in the mirror, “even before the times you’ve turned over in your sleep and presented them to me, I had heard from other sources.”

Rubbing a flexible and very uncomfortable arm down his heavily scarred back, old white ones and some fresher, pink ones from Batman or the police Oswald assumed, “I try to forget or at least ignore all those things the guards sell to the press about me...” Edward muttered, fingers of the other arm wrapped around his own waist drumming rapidly. The vulnerability Oswald had wished for was back, but it almost hurt to see it this time.

Despite this, Edward still walked backwards to the bed to pull out his phone, although he only sat with it turning rhythmically in his hands now as he considered a patch of floor between him and Oswald’s feet. “Your father?” Oswald dared to ask, to break the silence both literally and on a deeper level. He kept his distance across the room for Edward’s sake, just in this moment.

“A lot of them,” Edward said, the turning of his phone only quickening until it slipped and nearly dropped into his lap. “...I hate how it looks; don’t look at it if possible, please.”

“I know you’ve been keeping the lights down or curtains drawn around the bed when we’re together for a reason,” Oswald answered, by which he meant, “Of course, if it brings you comfort. It does hurt me to see you’ve been so harmed.”

Edward’s spare hand clenched up in the duvet beneath it tight enough to turn white, while he still stared into that empty space for a moment. “Thank you,” he calmed his hand back out, looking up to Oswald again.

Inclining his head, a better smile on his face, Oswald took one last look at himself in the mirror before crossing his bedroom to join Edward on the bed. Edward shuffled up more than strictly necessary, the one awaiting this time. “Do you want to...?” Oswald gestured his gaze down to Edward’s bared crotch in offer. “Given my gains regarding judgement of myself, even if only temporary, if you wanted to...”

“I’m... I’m a little overstimulated today, hypersensitive I mean,” Edward announced, one finger twitching enough to be solid evidence. “But, um, if I maybe,” He flapped a hand in Oswald’s direction unintelligibly. In communication Oswald could actually understand, “If I had something to concentrate on, to help take my mind off the sensations in my own body, it helps.”

What he meant, and what they ended up doing, was mutual handjobs as they sat there on the edge of the bed together.

Edward’s head was tilted down, gaze in the direction of his hand’s work at a middle distance. Taking the opportunity, Oswald pressed forward for once to lead Edward into kissing as their bodies moved closer. Though slow on the uptake, distraction probably to blame, Edward joined in with more vigour increasingly; Oswald could only hope his mind was maybe shutting down in there for once, even if that would only be as temporary as his own self-confidence boost in the end.

Edward’s experience coaxed them up to kneeling together, hands working mere inches from each other and sometimes even close enough to brush against one another. It felt so dirty and raw, the slickness of sweaty skin rubbing together, panting into each other’s mouths between kisses; Oswald loved it.

He came far too quickly, groaning with disappointment as well as the pleasure. Though too hard to stay kneeling now, he continued pleasuring Edward with as little faltering as possible, enjoying the comforting feel of Edward continuing to hold his own penis even now it had gone soft.

After half a moment, “Sorry...” Edward pulled back, his hand discouraging Oswald’s from his cock. “I’m getting too- I’m overstimulated.” His eyes closed, his breathing sounded rough with an edge of panic behind the expectable speed it was going at. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t- Should I have been doing something differently?” Oswald asked.

Edward simply shook his head. “Just an autistic thing.”

“Well then it’s nothing you need to apologise for,” Oswald told him, stopping his natural urge to reach out in comfort to consider the situation a little more open-mindedly. “Just touch? Does listening to my voice help?”

“A little.” Erection still ridiculously hard and close, Edward sat back and then switched to curling up on his side like a child upon the duvet, eyes closed the entire time. “It’s nice and deep; humans are conditioned to find other human voices soothing, an evolutionary advantage to be with others who will protect us, particularly the deeper voices of adult males.”

Oswald chuckled slightly. “You do spout off random facts like your _Gotham_ counterpart after all.”

Edward’s closed eyes managed to frown. “I used to; I ceased for the same reason it didn’t work out for him. It happens when I’m nervous.”

“My apologies.” Oswald considered Edward curled up beside him – His slimness really made him look, even at nearly 6’, still so much like a boy – and the flushed state he was still in. “Will you want me to finish you off, as it were?” Edward shook his head. “All right. Would you like to simply sit and talk?” Now Edward nodded; well, maybe ‘talk’ meant simply to listen in his case. “It does feel pleasant to be the one assisting you for once, Edward. You’ve done so much to aid me with my issues; I only want to do the same, to assist you in attaining your aims, particularly the ones you can trust no one else to help you with.”

Edward’s brow creased for a moment. “You don’t need to-”

“And you don’t need to assist me with mine. But why do you?” Oswald left open. Edward didn’t answer, perhaps understandably in his state. “I... I don’t know how to help you as you do for me, Edward; I’m afraid I don’t have your intelligence, and I apologise if I bore you dreadfully at times because of it.” He thought he noticed a bit of a smile on Edward’s lips, a friendly one that got the joke. “I worry that maybe it’s a kindness, that in your superior sight of the situation you can see I wouldn’t be able to assist you and are attempting to spare me such pain-”

“Your inadequacy complex is showing again,” Edward said, an attempted tease Oswald was going to presume even if its tone had come out a little flat in his current state.

“My apologies. But I was being wholly sincere in my desire to understand you better, Edward; I have listened to that album you gave me, for instance.” Edward’s body perked up a little now, even if it was more just a twitch of his head. “I want to save my response for a better time however, if that is amenable to you; perhaps it wasn’t a riddle, but nonetheless I have an answer to give.” He could see how Edward’s face creased at that, eyes even cracking open slightly to look suspectly at someone who dared to take such a stance with the Riddler of all people. “In any case, would you prefer me simply to talk of other things right now?”

Edward nodded, and didn’t object as Oswald narrated a background of information on topics such as business lately, what he and Robin had been speaking about, how Christopher the penguin chick was maturing.

The bedroom was eventually abandoned for Oswald’s downstairs sofa to watch more Netflix together, Edward curled up around a cushion with his head on Oswald’s lap. Perhaps Oswald had wished for more earlier, that today might be the day, but this was fine as well; as long as they were together.

~#~

“Oh Ozzie,” Clawed hands – Well, hands with nails fashioned like claws – settled on his shoulders from behind; “as much as we all knew it was going to happen, now you’re keeping all the fun to yourself.”

Not even a moment to watch the penguins between customers, apparently. “Ms. Kyle,” he turned partly to his interruption, more in acknowledgement than to actually look at her. “I don’t know what all you are referring to, but whatever it is I doubt an old bird such as I could ever keep you from anything you desire.”

She slipped up onto the stool beside him, already leant over close to his shoulder and therefore ear. “Eddie won’t play anymore, on account of your little arrangement,” Selina clarified, only acting put out so she had the opportunity to pout.

Oswald blinked a couple of times as he finally faced her and gave that thought. “You mean he refused sexual relations with you?” She nodded, if he must put it in such a way. “Strange. I specifically informed him he could continue to consort with other conjugal companions.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows really reached quite a height. To qualify the reaction, “You seem the traditional type, that’s all. I can imagine Edward being okay with it- I presume he did offer you the same, right?” she checked, almost with an edge of concern.

“He did, although pointlessly given my nature and position.”

“Oh, I don’t know; I’ve always fancied finding out.” She was oblique enough, until Selina winked at him, that Oswald took a delayed moment to blush about that and cough discreetly before sipping at his drink. “Well, he turned me down anyway, if you wanted to know.”

“I made that offer in good faith that he could do as he pleased within it, although- Wait, you are aware of our relationship?” he suddenly realised.

“I’m not meant to? Edward just mentioned it in conversation as if he already thought I knew about it; he didn’t ever tell me, although I’d argue you two really didn’t have to.” Grinning like a pure cat, she sipped at her own Cat’s Cream drink before setting it gracefully on the central bar they sat at. “Harley got all excited when I mentioned it to her, so I assume he hadn’t mentioned it to her, but well-”

“Everyone knows about it now that Ms. Quinzel knows,” Oswald nodded along with a sigh. “It probably was about time, I suppose.”

“Long overdue; what other juicy secrets have you been sitting on, Ozzie?”

“Edward was the one who didn’t wish to speak of it publically though,” he continued, a little consternated now. “I rather imagined we’d discuss the matter again before reveal, but I never had any objections anyway.”

“He still ought to have discussed it with you,” Selina counselled more seriously now, leaning on one elbow with a perfect little crease of a frown in her features. “The open relationship, letting him sleep with other people, that was something you offered on your own initiative?” she also checked.

“Yes. He did seem rather reluctant to take it, I suppose.”

“Then why did you offer?” she had to ask.

Oswald could only shrug. “I was attempting to give Edward what I believed he wanted, or perhaps even needed.”

She snorted lightly, sipping at her drink again. “Did you ever consider simply asking him what he needs and wants?”

“Oh believe me, I do attempt to,” Oswald made a small scoffing sound. “Just the other day I made my willingness very plainly clear. But he rarely answers me, little past the immediate and trivial at least.” Seeing her frown had evolved to one fully raised eyebrow now, and she had stilled in the middle of drinking. “Is that... a problem?” he asked, his own inexperience shaming him suddenly.

Selina finished her drink, taking the time to consider and set it down before answering. “Let’s just say I have some experience with people who seem to think letting anyone else inside to help them, even when in a relationship, is a positive thing for the relationship; it’s not,” she broke to him.

“Our beloved Batman?”

“Ugh. You’d really think he thinks himself invincible, even emotionally; you don’t dress up like that and do what he does without being incredibly psychologically damaged though, I can tell you.” They shared a good snicker and smirk. “And most of the time when he was trying to ‘help’ me he was actually trying to reform me; it was like dating a fucking evangelist...” Oswald laughed now. “I don’t think you’re in danger of that from Edward-”

“Quite the opposite, most likely.”

“-but in a healthy relationship you should be equals, be supporting one another,” she continued. “Perhaps Edward is getting what he needs from you, just without having to ask; he can be a little manipulative like that at times – You know how he hates to show any form of weakness, so asking for things can come under that.” Oswald nodded in understanding. “But since it’s Edward, I do worry. It can be difficult to build a reciprocal relationship if, well, you can’t reciprocate. I’m not saying you have to become his therapist or anything, but...” She sighed. “It would be nice if someone could help him...”

“I know that more keenly than any, my dear,” Oswald said heavily. “He has been doing an awful lot to assist me with my own issues since our relationship began,” Oswald admitted. “I _do_ want to give back, and I’ve made every effort to.”

“You can’t push with Edward,” Selina advised. “He likes things on his terms.”

“A fact I have no issue with, if it provides him comfort. I simply... I feel at a distance from him still. Perhaps that’s simply my imagination, or comfort for him. But I can’t help wishing I felt as if I knew how I could help him...”

“Are you sure it’s a matter of distance, and not attention?” Selina asked, clarifying, “Eddie always wants attention. He’s just probably not trying to show it with you now as he thinks it will make a bad impression in a relationship.”

“It never stopped him in a friendship.”

“Your relationship means a lot to him; he’s never been willing to try with anyone before.” While he digested that, after giving him a moment, “You should speak to his girls, Query and Echo, sometime; they probably know Eddie most intimately of anyone in this sort of thing.”

“Could I tempt you into divulging their details to me, in that case?” Oswald asked.

“I bet you could,” she flirted, “but I’ve only ever been in contact with them through Edward’s little app we all use. You’ll have to ask him, or get their details another way.”

Fair, and another reason to perhaps curse Edward’s monopolistic control over communication in their little rogues group. But anyway, “Thank you, my dear. Relationships always sound as if they can be the most difficult things, even at the best of times let alone with a partner such as mine. I appreciate the good counsel.”

“Well, if you ever want to...” Selina drained the remaining white, creamy fluid of her drink, “I’m up for it. The three of us,” she had to clarify for him.

Holding steady despite his blush and awkward expression, “At least allow me the chance to acquaint myself with the basics for two first.”

Chuckling, she slinked off her stool and kissed him chastely on the cheek in goodbye, leaving Oswald to sit and watch his penguins sliding about on the ice at the centre of the Lounge together, happily bumping off one another and squeaking with joy as they nuzzled. “If only it was as simple as it is for you...”


	7. Dogged & Dog-Ed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some graphic violence in the middle of this chapter.

“So.” Edward began, joining Oswald in the upper VIP area of the Lounge one surprise Friday evening.

“So?” Oswald replied.

Edward slid across his phone, some sleek, white social media site Oswald vaguely recognised as Instagram with a [photo of a bulldog](https://www.instagram.com/p/BmldUwrH6zf/) he didn’t recognise on the screen. “What did Robin dish about Edward the bulldog?”

“We haven’t spoken as much now he’s busy with filming,” Oswald said, inspecting the hashtag things on the picture that indeed read #edwardthebulldog along with #gothamseason5. “I procure a dog and name it after you?”

“That’s what you need to ask him!” Edward urged. “We’ll only have to wait a day or two for the fanfics to start at least, but I need to know why you name a dog after me! And a bulldog of all breeds,” he added with disdain, probably answering his own question.

Oswald could only sigh. “What is your fanatical fascination with fanfiction featuring us?”

Edward’s hands began encouraging him to get his phone out as he said, “I have a program that reads them to me while I’m working, when I’m not listening to podcasts or music; I like the aural stimulation and simulation of company.”

Though he wanted, with compassionate concern, to address that last point Oswald surrendered to the badgering and removed his phone from his pocket to text Robin.

Watching over Oswald’s shoulder just to check, “I wonder if when Strange revived me he body-swapped me with a dog and that’s what it’s about, my human mind is in the dog and that’s why you’re taking care of it,” Edward speculated. “Presumably the dog’s mind would be in my body, running around drooling and humping things – Which is pretty much what I do to any girl I like on that show anyway.”

Though he chuckled, “I really don’t believe even _Gotham_ is quite that schlocky with its sci-fi elements and plotlines,” Oswald debated.

“Don’t encourage it; they’re using that ridiculous _No Man’s Land_ comic story as the basis for the final season so I don’t think there’s anything they wouldn’t do. They’re leaving reality totally behind,” Edward said, patting Oswald’s hand to get even more of his attention. “Ask Robin if I get a dog and call it Oswald in response- Let’s see, a bulldog is totally unlike me but suits you perfectly, so by that measure it should be... a poodle! Yes! The second most intelligent dog breed – Although I’d argue not being stupid enough to herd sheep just because a human tells you to makes them more intelligent than border collies – plus delicate and pretty: Oswald the poodle- No!” Edward clasped his hands with sheer glee. “Oswald Poodlepot!”

Oswald turned to him wearily unsurprised, concerned about his sheer level of excitement and highly unimpressed. “Do you truly suppose your character would be that- Yes, he would be that petty...”

Still giggling and flapping his hands in joy, “Imagine you’re just walking your dog one day and I turn up with mine; they start fighting so we go, “Well, they’re true to their namesakes; just like us.” But then we realise the dogs are actually humping each other and trying to have sex instead! And then it gets really awkward.”

Setting aside his phone, given someone as busy as Robin was unlikely to answer for a while, Oswald sighed. “You have given this far too much thought, Edward. You’ve given this more thought than it deserves in a lifetime within five minutes.”

“You wouldn’t want to have someone as intelligent and beautiful as me on a leash?” Edward flirted, leaning on the bar and into Oswald’s personal space. “I do tricks. And I come with my own collar.”

Oswald groaned.

“It’s dark green with a bronze buckle-”

“I get the picture,” Oswald waved his hand at Edward that he really got the picture. His hopeful companion continued to grin, waiting. “...Our first time, in my bedroom at the mansion, you mentioned ‘bondage’ upon seeing my bed. Is that a particular... preference of yours?” he picked through unfamiliarly.

“Bondage?” Edward considered. “Maybe,” he could only shrug. “I have quite a lot of experience with it – Selina likes collars and leashes, and Jonathan doesn’t wear that noose around his neck in costume for nothing – but that sentiment simply sprung upon seeing your site of soporification,” he admitted.

Oswald’s reply was completely derailed when he realised, “Did you just... do one of my alliterations?”

Edward’s eyes widened, rolling to the side slightly as he rewound their conversation himself. “Oh. Yes. It wasn’t meant in mocking or anything,” he assured hurriedly. “I’ve always thought of them as interesting little linguistic puzzles to set yourself, but I suppose lately as I’ve been daydreaming about the two of us I’ve gotten practised at doing them myself to fill in your parts.” Before Oswald got the chance to ask about these daydreams, “I’m more interested by the fact you’re actually aware you do them,” Edward said, utterly sincere.

Oswald had to frown. “Of course I’m aware I’m doing them. You believed them to be some subconscious product beyond my control?” Edward shrugged that, you know, the general standard of people’s subconscious in this city being what it is. Sighing, “Well, I suppose it’s not as if I don’t... I can be made of wood, word or weed, but most often when you meet me it’s so I soon can be freed,” Oswald riddled.

He wasn’t surprised nor bothered it only took Edward seconds to deduce, “A knot,” correctly. “Good composition, if a little simple and generous in its hints; _knot_ bad,” the Riddler judged and laughed, causing Oswald to groan a little.

“Our osmosis of the other’s oddities aside, these daydreams you spoke of...”

“They’re just, you know, anticipatory preparation by rehearsing things in my head,” Edward defended. “The standard sort of thing, I think...” he added more awkwardly.

“Anything I can fulfil?” Oswald offered.

He checked Oswald was being genuine, and also looked around to check no over-eager staff had come up here to see if their glasses needed refilling, before Edward managed in a quietly embarrassed voice, “They’re only ridiculously simple things.” Since Oswald was waiting on him to continue, “Just... thinking about your muscles, the special shapes they make when you tense them up, or just where they are when they’re resting and I run my hands over them,” he employed a little of his Riddler pride to get through admitting, fingers still drumming on the tabletop nonetheless as his lightly freckled cheeks flushed.

“What is the root of this preoccupation with my muscles?” Oswald enquired, not really surprised after where Edward’s hands always went when they were together but still none the wiser about why.

“I don’t know, they’re just... No one else I know has muscles like that; not the sinewy ones the rest of us forcibly develop escaping the Bat, nor are they the utterly insulting and showy muscles of someone like Bane. They’re just... they’re unique to you. They remind me I’m with you, Oswald, not anyone else,” Edward realised as he spoke the words, a small smile appearing with it. “It’s like your hands; I often try to remember what it feels like holding hands with you when I’m alone, since it feels so unique. But when you try too hard it always slips away, that sort of thing, doesn’t it?” he asked, a finger trailing around his glass’ base thoughtfully.

Oswald stared down at one of his own deformed hands, so thrown that it was far past a socially acceptable response time when he said, “It’s not that you simply tolerate them to be with me? You actually... like how my hands feel?”

“Yeah,” Edward admitted with ease. He continued with that small smile even as he observed Oswald’s frown at that idea. “It doesn’t,” he checked, “feel like I’m fetishising you or something, does it?”

“I don’t know how it feels; the whole idea is simply... It doesn’t make any sort of sense to me,” Oswald said, putting his hand back in his lap under the table where he was more comfortable with it.

“I like the way my fingers have to fit between yours,” Edward stated with a child-like innocence, “my middle two bunched up between yours while I get to put the other two around the outside; it feels like our hands are hugging. Holding hands with other people doesn’t feel like that.”

Oswald really looked for some sign of mockery or at least hyperbole in Edward’s cheerful expression facing out over the Lounge but it was only utterly ingenuous, too cute to be anything but serious. Though his general behaviour was strange, Oswald couldn’t doubt the words were sincere. The particular idea would have to be filed away for later with the amount of time that was going to take to comprehend though. “I... It will take time for me to develop any form of physical or sexual confidence, Edward. Years, most probably.”

“I know,” Edward accepted easily.

“But I am willing, in the meantime, to try any... inclinations, sexual games as it were, you wish to,” Oswald offered euphemistically.

“That’s okay, Oswald-”

“I heard from Selina that you refused her offer to...”

Edward smiled awkwardly, swirling the ice in his empty glass. “I can refuse an offer of sex, can’t I? It’s my body.” Noting his joke had made Oswald uncomfortable, “Besides, it’s different with you. It would be... It’s just fun with them, but with you...”

Oswald raised an eyebrow, waiting for more. In the end he had to prompt further conversation by asking, “I simply... Forgive me if I’ve made an erroneous assumption, Edward, but you appear to have a pattern of aligning your sexual preferences with whatever those of your partner, or partners, are. I do hope that you’re not refraining from stating any desires to instead go along only with my limited ones; this is a matter of compromise, after all.”

“I’m not,” Edward answered, before giving it a little more thought. “Do I even know what I want, is what you’re asking?” He did sound displeased to put it into words, although kept it directed into his glass instead of at Oswald. “I... It changes. But I can assure you if I wasn’t satisfied with what we were doing now I would say, okay?”

“Yes. I merely... if there’s more you wish to be doing...”

Edward was already shaking his head, catching the attention of Balázs the waiter by rattling his empty glass and effectively bringing an end to this particular topic of discussion for the night.

Oswald acquiesced, having received enough assurance on a subject he was hardly comfortable with to discuss at this length in public anyway. If Edward wanted to move onto what they were going to binge-watch together next date night and his latest video game he was excited by, that was perfectly acceptable to Oswald right now.

~#~

“We told you that we had the address and contact details of your mother,” the Penguin began, ignoring the creaking as his audience of one leant away from the gun in his hand within the confines of his chair and scouted for a possible escape. “We also told you what we would do with that information were you to pursue any particularly presumptuous plans, Kevin-”

“Look, I don’t-”

The pistol cracked against the side of his skull, silencing such a rude interruption. “And yet you take it upon yourself to go completely outside our stated part in this business arrangement and provide our services to some seedy soiree our partners barely escaped from before the police raided it!” the Penguin continued. “Let me tell you,” he practically spat, “it takes _quite_ the poor excuse for a private function for the police to spring into action in this city!”

Kevin simply sweated silently in his seat this time.

“And now some of our partners are injured.” Shifting forward where he sat on the edge of the table, the Penguin pulled open the suit jacket of other man roughly – It was cheap and deserved nothing less – to remove the wallet, his presence enough intimidation even when he had to lower the gun momentarily. “You will be paying their medical bills,” he announced. “It’s up to you whether you want to pay your own or not.”

After another moment of terrified silence, and then a dry swallow, “I-I have a choice?” Kevin asked.

“Well, you won’t have any to pay if you’re dead,” the Penguin stated plainly, the cold level of pure indifference frightening Kevin back against the hard spine of his chair. “I am sorry we had to tell your mother what sordid business you’re involved in- Not for your sake, of course. But she had no idea and so much love for you.” He shook his head, sifting through the wallet’s contents with one hand and pulling a grimace of disgust that the only things inside were condoms, literally dirty cash and a couple of poorly rolled spliffs. “Do you even care?!”

Kevin spooked at the sudden outburst of anger, too confused to answer.

Slapping the wallet down under his hand as he leant in again, “You wasted three very important things with this little move, Kevin: Our trust in you, the safety of our partners and a parent’s love and-”

Both froze at the sound of a [phone ringtone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ks_qOI0lzho) coming from Oswald’s waistcoat pocket. The mood ruined, uncertainty halted them for long enough to reach the lyrics of the song. At that point, as Oswald finally decided to pull his phone out and answer it, “Is that ‘Lovesong’ by The Cure?” Kevin asked blatantly, leaning forward on the edge of the table curiously. “You like The Cure?”

Sighing as he accepted the call, “Edward?” Oswald pulled a knife out of the inner side of his waistcoat with his other hand and stabbed Kevin through one of his at the same time.

There was silence on the other end of the line, then, “...I was going to ask if you were busy right now, Oswald, but I’ll take it from the screaming that you are,” Edward replied, the phone on speakerphone.

“I’m really not,” Oswald said, casting a terrifying glower at Kevin who switched to whimpering bloodily in his seat, left hand still pinned to the table by the knife through its back.

“Are you poisoning someone?” Edward asked. “I heard something about a cure,” he clarified.

“No, no; nothing like that,” Oswald sat back conversationally. “Do you recall that idiotic nobody I had you source material on for me some time back? Well he decided to prove his stupidity and not heed it.”

“Are you torturing him?” Edward asked almost gleefully, a fascinated ‘ooh’ sound accompanying through the phone’s speakers. “Are you dressed in your old Penguin costume? Do you have your top hat on?”

Oswald blinked uncomfortably, suddenly aware again that, “Yes, I have my top hat on.” He chose to ignore the rather aroused noise that came out of his phone in response to that. “I wanted to intimidate him and make an example of him physically, as it has apparently been long enough for this city’s underworld to forget not to cross me.”

“Can you put it on video chat?” Edward asked. “I want to watch,” he justified, if he needed to.

Oswald baulked uncomfortably, posture having completely shifted since the phone call began away from Kevin to an awkward perch. “I’d really rather... I feel uncomfortable exercising this old side of myself, honestly. Especially to you considering you were the one who helped me decide I wished to move past this and reform, Edward. I don’t want to be that person anymore.” He watched Kevin considering which of removing or leaving the knife in his hand was the less painful option, knowing neither really was.

“You don’t want to be the Penguin anymore?” Edward asked, tone unplaceable.

“No,” Oswald said, taking off his top hat to set aside on the table. “Only because certain situations necessitate it do I ever return now.”

Edward was very quiet on the other end, obviously considering something.

Since this was a slightly pressing situation, “What did you call to talk about, Edward?” Oswald prompted.

“Oh, I just wanted to arrange when to come over, since you texted me earlier saying you had something to show me at the Lounge. I just... you know.”

“Wanted to hear my voice?” Oswald guessed, allowing himself to smile a little sentimentally.

“Well, yes,” Edward sniffed slightly, if he must admit it.

Oswald chuckled fondly at the sound.

Still sat quite literally transfixed in his seat, “Oh fuck.” Kevin swallowed thickly as the Penguin’s sharp, cold blue eyes returned to him. “You and Riddler really are dating!”

Though a little peeved, “If you must know, yes,” Oswald replied.

“Oswald-”

“Be reassured,” he answered Edward pre-emptively; “I decided he wasn’t making it out of this room alive the moment that you called.” Kevin now lost all fear to panic and reached to pull the knife out of his hand. Oswald shot Kevin’s other hand through the palm with his pistol before he could. “I wasn’t that inclined to let him live anyway, after his actions,” he spoke over the sound of further screaming. “I simply wanted him to suffer a little longer first.” He looked at the knifed hand, still affixed to the table but a little torn now by the force of having jerked as he was shot.

“What exactly did he do?” Edward had to ask, taking joy in wasting time in the current situation.

“Oh, not even anything that clever,” Oswald answered distastefully. “The network of healthcare, customer negotiation and protection we offer sex workers in this city- Well, technically another group runs the operation; I simply offer my status and weight to them to prevent exploitative ones challenging them. In any case, he decided to take upon himself to play consultant and arrange for some of the workers to attend some illegal and sleazy private function at a 40% arrangement fee for himself, instead of the 10% the group normally takes.”

“Oh, definitely in that case,” Edward agreed. “Where did you shoot him? He’s not going to bleed out and go unconscious before you kill him, is he?”

Oswald assessed, old instincts kicking in to read such a thing very easily. “The hand, but considering I also stabbed him in the other hand when you first called you may have a fair point.” Though woozy enough to nearly faint, Kevin began struggling again in the chair uselessly. “One moment,” Oswald asked for, standing up so he could shoot Kevin through the side of the face, low enough to simply spray blood, teeth and fragments of bone instead of messy brain over the tabletop, floor and chair. “He’ll probably be semi-conscious for a few more moments to enjoy it where I shot him,” he narrated for Edward. “I didn’t want to damage the chair in the process.”

“You’re in the downstairs meetings room under the kitchen at the Lounge?” Edward took a guess. “The chairs in that room are nice.”

“They wipe clean easily,” Oswald mentioned as he made his way towards the door, ready to call in disposal and cleaning. “Are you free to come round this evening?” he asked, back on track.

“Mmm, probably not this evening. Maybe not tomorrow either. But the day after that most likely.”

“Then, in that case,” Oswald agreed pleasantly.

Edward fell silent, obviously no objections, but didn’t yet hang up. There was a tension that he was going to say something, eventually broken when he asked, “...When you said that you don’t want to be the Penguin anymore, Oswald... Do you want me to stop being the Riddler?”

“What?” He took a moment to even draw the connection between those two things Edward that had. “No, of course not- Well, of course I would support you were that your wish, just as you supported mine. But that is your business, Edward, and I am happy to be with you either way,” he reassured, thoughts briefly drifting to that finale project Edward had mentioned recently.

Edward stayed tensely silent again for moment, before saying, “You know, you... I...” Oswald raised an eyebrow, not that Edward could see, waiting. “...Do I make you feel as if you want to be a better person, Oswald? Or am I a bad influence on you; do you feel like I’m pulling you back to being a rogue again?”

That being quite the surprise question, Oswald considered for a good moment before replying. “I’ve never truly stopped being a ‘rogue’ in the one sense, given I’ll never escape my reputation. Do I feel pulled back to further criminal conduct? No, or no more than I was already perpetrating.”

“What about a better person?” Edward prompted.

“Honestly? No,” Oswald admitted. “I simply don’t feel any influence of that sort from you, Edward. Why?”

“...No reason.”

As if that was going to fly with this flightless bird. “You must admit that was quite the peculiar question to suddenly ask, my friend. What brought it on?”

After a moment more radio silence, “I... It doesn’t really matter,” Edward tried to pass off. “It was just the topic, you saying you don’t want to be the Penguin anymore. I wondered if I had something to do with that.”

“Well, you certainly did,” Oswald answered more cheerfully. “I presumed you were talking of recently though, since our new... development. Perhaps my desire can’t be traced to you in origin, but your encouragement has always been a large part in the facilitation of it.”

Edward considered that silently, eventually signing off, “Well, I bet you have some cleaning up to do now! See you soon!”

“Until then.” Oswald smiled happily, listening to the sound of the phone call being ended on the other end and then letting his face drop back to a concerned frown.

~#~

A day later than originally hoped, Edward followed the directions given at the door to where Oswald sat at the main bar of the Lounge, being eagerly indicated by Oswald’s pointing finger to something new and blue that sat behind it on one of the front shelves.

A sign reading ‘The Riddler puts his Pokémon in the _Pokémon GO_ gym here – Challenge at your own peril’ in Oswald’s distinctive handwriting sat held in the arms of a [Piplup plush](https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/EnYAAOSw43Bboww4/s-l640.jpg), beside the glasses used for Oswald’s rarely-served and penguin-themed signature drink. “I had to ask the son of one of the bartenders to check I used the right terms,” Oswald said in a rather endearingly child-like way. “It’s a rather cute design really.”

“They’re not quite so cute once they evolve- that is, grow up,” Edward clarified, taking a seat as he considered the new installation with a rather amused smile. It was too cute and touching to tell Oswald you needed to have your Pokémon defeated to get rewards for defending the gym, wasn’t it? “They haven’t released Piplup in _Pokémon GO_ yet but it should be coming in the next few months. I’ll make sure to put one in the gym here once it’s available.”

Happily pleased by that prospect, which was adorable, Oswald slid something along the bar to him that had been waiting under his hand for Edward’s arrival. “Returned to you,” Oswald said, as Edward tried to find somewhere upon himself he could store his copy of _Page One_ by Steven Page to take home, “but don’t take such an act to imply I didn’t care for it; I’m returning it now only because my own copy finally arrived.”

“You liked it?”

“I loved it. Although it may not have the nostalgic advantage the albums of my adolescence have, his works fall exactly at the conjunction of my favourite artists; I listened to all his other albums too.”

Surprised, but able to see Oswald was sincere in that, “I personally prefer BNL’s work since they split ways, but I still enjoy Steve’s solo work,” Edward said.

“I will admit,” Oswald continued with a hint of amusement to his tone, “I’m still undecided as to whether it was some sort of riddle or not, considering titles like ‘Indecision’ in light of the awkward start our arrangement had. And if so, I really wonder what to make of ‘Marry Me’.”

Chuckling in shared humour, “I really don’t think it was a riddle,” Edward assured him. “I just mentioned it might subconsciously be in case; I’m not sure if I was having the best day when I said that to you.” He looked around for the bartender to serve him a drink already, fingers drumming rapidly on the counter, only to find they were all giving their boss too much considerate space at the moment.

“No?” Taking in Edward’s uneasy and generally tense demeanour, “Are you... all right lately, Edward?” Oswald dared to finally ask. “You’ve seemed... well, I was about to say unpredictable but that’s rather par for the course with your personality. A little erratic compared to what I’ve come to expect from you, shall we say?” he put it diplomatically.

His fingers continued to drum for a moment, gaze frozen elsewhere, before Edward suddenly turned back round much calmer and more jovial. “That’s normal, isn’t it? When you’re, you know, in a new relationship and excited about it.”

Oswald’s own gaze drifted to the Piplup toy sat up by the bar, and he had to nod to that he supposed. “I will admit that I... Yes, when I’m around you...” It made sense actually. “I’m sorry. I’m just worrying over nothing.” Edward smiled along, pleased he’d come to that conclusion. “Anyway,” Oswald continued, reaching into his waistcoat with a new smile, “there was one more item I had for you tonight.”

“Spoiling me, huh?” Edward grinned. “I knew you’d be a sugar daddy.”

Oswald paused to give the ginger imp quite the look. “Utter that phrase about me ever again and my generosity will cease before the sentence does.” Sufficiently warned, but still playfully smirking to himself, Edward waited keenly on this new gift he was getting. “I happened, in listening to his other works and purchasing my copies, to order a little something else for us.” He held out a small, cardboard envelope. “I apologise, but this is why I wanted to wait for this conversation.”

Edward took it, opening it to find two tickets – He really shouldn’t have been surprised Oswald had gone VIP – for the 25th of September, the Steven Page trio in New York City.

Watching Edward’s face, seeing the shock not fade to any sort of excitement or joy, “If you don’t wish our relationship to be public yet- I simply assumed because you’d informed our friendship circle that-”

“No, it’s...” Edward interrupted him, schooling his face into an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Autistic people and our surprises, that’s all; it requires all sorts of planning and mental preparation to do things like this. My mind was simply considering...”

“Ah, my apologies,” Oswald would accept that one. “I should have asked. I did hope though, if the surprise is good enough and what.”

Edward hummed noncommittally about that.

Checking they had the privacy necessary, at least in the small area around them, Oswald turned to Edward and leant in to speak intimately. “You’ve shown me how much your music means to you, Edward, and I simply wanted to share in that,” he explained. “I wouldn’t be disingenuous about a matter I know means so much to you simply to share in it with you, if that’s what you fear.”

“No, that’s not...” Edward set the tickets back in their envelope down on the counter, gaze still staring distantly at them. “I know you wouldn’t, Oswald. That you did this because you... love me and love the part of my world I’ve introduced you to.”

“Yes, exactly,” Oswald said, so glad he got it.

Edward finally smiled, only his mouth moving though while his gaze stayed stuck on the tickets. “...You said you’d listened to his other music, yes?” he asked. “Including ‘Surprise Surprise!’? I have a real desire to listen to that song right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oswald Poodlepot's name came from a friend of mine, but the scenario of the two dogs was my invention upon the news of Edward the bulldog being announced. That same friend turned it into an absolutely brilliant screencap-based story you can read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966788/chapters/39875373).
> 
> Other chapter notes: Piplup was eventually added to _Pokémon GO_ on October the 16th, 2018 (This fic is set in the equivalent of 2018 in their world and is currently up to Aug/early Sept when this chapter takes place).  
> Steven Page really did do a tour that stopped in NY on the 25th of Sept last year - One of my best friends actually tours with Steve often, playing the cajon, and played during that show.  
> And in case it isn't clear enough, Oswald supports a network that helps sex workers in Gotham to keep safe and access healthcare because, whatever his views may be on it, is realistic about its existence so wants to help since he knows about poor sexual experiences.


	8. Tragedy & Comedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you listened to the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KI6QP27xg4c) Edward mentioned at the end of the last chapter you might be able to guess what’s coming this time.
> 
> Content warning for self-harm and blood.

Oswald’s phone pinged with an emergency alert from the rogues’ communication app one previously peaceful afternoon a couple of days later, sat beside the concert tickets on his desk as he checked stocks and drew up the new orders for next month.

He picked it up, dread stopping the words from properly registering for a long moment:

An emergency medical alert for Edward.

He was downstairs and in the car he kept at the Lounge before he even considered the strangeness of the fact the alert was at Edward’s house, but regardless of the uncertainties and anxieties that gave him he drove out of his parking space.

It pinged again with a different, softer tone along the way. In traffic he picked his phone up to see Jervis had arrived at the scene, presumably with Jonathan who had the actual medical knowledge necessary, but he drove on nonetheless.

As he drove Oswald tried to consider instead how, despite his initial misgivings when Edward had first presented the phones and communication system to them, the GPS tracking they had for one another could be a godsend in situations like this.

Parking the closest you could to Edward’s safehouse, at the end of the parkour rat-run he insisted on hiding it down, Oswald noted a familiar Jaguar coupé; Selina had also responded, and was no doubt already there at the speed she could move.

Any amount of time was too long but Oswald could truly feel his heart pounding with fear by the time he got to Edward’s front door, scanning his thumb and waiting the agonising seconds for it to open for him. Inside, plunged into the darkness of Edward’s hall he always kept unlit for some reason, he moved to the closed workroom door ahead before pausing just in time as he heard Selina’s disembodied voice call, “Up here,” down the staircase. Backtracking, he took the carpeted metal stairs of the almost sci-fi feeling interior two at a time to the lit upper hall.

Waiting in a doorway to see who had joined them, Selina almost looked more concerned to see Oswald of all people but beckoned him nonetheless.

As he approached the doorway though to look in her arm shot out, preventing him.

“Jonathan’s still patching him up at the moment,” she said, looking in herself with a distant gaze and perfect, white teeth chewing on her bottom lip. “He wasn’t sure if I should go steal some blood so we can do a transfusion, but there’s no hospital close enough anyway.”

“Transfusion...?” Oswald repeated, not even sure he wanted to look now.

Selina stared into that room a moment longer before her olive eyes turned down to him. “Did you go into his workroom downstairs?”

Oswald began to shake his head, opening his mouth- “Probably for the best,” Jervis chimed in wearily, climbing the stairs behind him and collapsing sat against the hallway wall, his normally beige skin noticeably pale. “I never was the best with lots of blood. I thought I’d gotten better used to it since setting up with a boyfriend who regularly attempts to sever people of their body parts with a scythe, but the fact that it’s all Edward’s blood...”

Oswald took in Jervis’ hands, the slightly paler skin of his palms stained with an ingrained scarlet still, and the dark stains on the turn-ups of his dark blue jeans as Selina asked, “Did you get it cleaned up?”

“Mostly,” Jervis shook his head. “I needed a break though to, you know...” He hung his head, breathing deeply and running a slightly trembling hand over his pale face.

“What happened?” Oswald finally asked, the question rushing out too harshly as he turned on Selina.

She looked down through the few inches of height she had on him with a pained expression, eventually sighing and simply walking into the room.

Edward’s bedroom; Oswald followed her in to the soft green, cream and pine wood room where Jonathan’s back was hunched over the closer side of the single bed with a knee on the mattress, Edward’s body sprawled out on top of the duvet on his side as Jonathan worked at his back. “Who’s here?” Jonathan snapped in a purely clinical manner, more concerned with whatever he was currently applying from a rather shabby doctor’s bag made of a repurposed school satchel stuffed with only scalpels, bandages and syringes by the looks of it.

“Oswald,” Selina answered, drifting to the end of the bed where she held onto the footboard as she looked over Edward’s body.

Jonathan actually paused, taking a moment to look back and confirm it for himself. In that moment Oswald saw a standard mild surprise but also compassion and pain as Jonathan looked at him, before turning back to Edward. “I’ve finished with the stitches. I’m just disinfecting it again more thoroughly since I was in a rush the first time.”

Though a trembling tension almost had his legs frozen, Oswald approached the bed to Jonathan’s left, looking at Edward finally.

Laid out in just the black jeans he must have been wearing earlier, all form of upper clothing gone, Edward’s body was even paler than Jervis’ had been outside. His freckles and the goosebumps of the cold air stood out starkly on his paper-white skin, marred all over his back by old scars and one large, fresh tear still scarlet with blood and the painfully harsh but neat black stitching of Jonathan’s needle; it was more than a good few inches long, and Oswald could only guess at how deep it must have been with that amount of blood. Jonathan had wiped away most of the blood now, only a small stain visible on the green duvet cover where it had run sideways down his back.

Oswald’s eyes tracked up to one of Jervis’ cards sat on Edward’s forehead above eyes closed in a peaceful-looking repose, too peaceful for such a life-threatening injury. “...He’s going to survive?” he really didn’t want to ask; he wanted to assume someone would have told him. But since there was only that dreadful silence...

“Probably,” Jonathan said, standing up and pulling off medical gloves. “...Hopefully,” he amended, looking down at the pallor of Edward’s skin. “He’s going to be hypovolemic, lacking blood, when he wakes up since we didn’t think we could get any for a transfusion. I’d prefer it if we had some saline or something to give him the extra energy he’s going to need...” He turned around, Jervis having come in to sit on this side of the wall now. “What’s Edward’s favourite drink – Don’t just make him tea because you like it – something with a high sugar content preferably?”

“Something easy to stomach, yes?” Jervis answered, even ignoring the insult of his beloved tea. “I can go see if he has any fruit smoothie when we’re going to wake him up.”

Jonathan nodded, turning back to the patient and frowning over what he saw.

“...So, what happened?” Oswald asked another question he assumed he would have had answered for him by now. “Did he fall on one his tools or such?” he took a guess, wondering what could have caused such a straight-looking and almost strangely neat-

Jonathan sighed heavily. “When Edward can’t handle something he... he self-harms to put himself into shock, to shut his brain up. But this time the idiot...” he trailed off, having to look away from Edward laid out so pale and fragile. As Oswald only continued to stare at the wound- the self-inflicted wound on Edward’s back, a heavy pounding of blood began to fill his senses. “Luckily he realised he’d gone too far this time and activated the medical alert before losing too much blood. He hides the wounds he inflicts amongst the scars already on his back from his father, out of sight,” Jonathan continued, voice almost distant to Oswald’s ears now. “There were a number of-”

“...Why?” Oswald interrupted, his own voice just as distant beyond the pulsing of the blood.

There was a thunk as Jonathan leant back against Edward’s beside table, folding his arms and surveying Edward laid out beside him from above with a clinical, difficult frown. “You have only ever interacted with Edward outside of Arkham, on Edward’s own terms where he can present as he wants; you are not to feel guilty about being unaware of this, Oswald,” Jonathan told him, his form of compassion. “I have seen him at his lowest in there, supported him through the-”

“Why does he self-harm?!" Oswald shocked himself as it came out so harshly, a barked order as his fist hit one end of Edward’s footboard, the only thing in reach.

Jonathan remained unfazed. “Self-harm induces physical shock, silences unpleasant thoughts; it’s something Jervis and I have also turned to at times,” he mentioned, Oswald cooling slightly with an ashamed discomfort. “Edward’s biggest issue could be summed up as a tendency for unpleasant thoughts in the form of obsessive and intrusive thoughts mainly; his own brilliance is the cause really, too much leftover processing power that ends up turning on him you could think of it as.” Oswald stared down at those long, thin fingers resting curled up to Edward’s chest so like a child, his incredibly delicate features at calm for once long enough to look as vulnerable as he really was. “Any medication he could use produces unpleasant side-effects, and ends up stunting his intelligence in its rather clumsy efforts to help; he refuses to take it.” Jonathan turned to Edward properly now as well. “He only tends to reach the level of actually harming himself during his hypomanic periods, however. Has he seemed manic lately?” he asked Oswald, genuine and concerned.

Oswald stammered, mind far too panicked to recall more than snatches of- of drumming fingers, of conversations cut short so Edward could escape, of suddenly cancelled plans, of those ever-drumming fingers- “I-I didn’t notice,” Oswald realised. “He... He’s seemed normal. I’ve not really spent extensive time with him for purely social reasons until- I saw small symptoms, yes, but I simply believed him to be nervous, or he’d say he was overstimulated or the like. But that’s been going on for, well, practically as long as we’ve been... dating,” he said for want of a better word. “He said he was just excited...”

He really didn’t like the way that made Jonathan respond with a sigh. “There were a number of recent scars beside this one on his back; given he’s not engaged in any dangerous criminal activity to my knowledge lately, Edward has been self-harming for a while.”

“...Because of me.”

Jonathan turned to Oswald properly, scratching as his temple as he attempted the personally difficult task of phrasing the truth comfortingly. “I would estimate Edward has been self-harming for a month or two intermittently; the two of you have been together a little longer than that, yes?” Oswald managed to nod. “The correlation of the two does not necessitate causation-”

“Oh please,” Oswald snorted derisively. “He doesn’t do this normally, or with this frequency at least?” Jonathan shook his head. “Then the only change has been my increased presence in his life. He’s gone to excess attempting to assist with my personal difficulties while I’ve barely been able to reciprocate- Perhaps _that_ is the problem; perhaps he doesn’t want my intruding and my attempts are inducing anxiety-”

“How about we wait until we can wake him up and ask the reason before needlessly speculating?” Jonathan suggested a little sternly.

The sound of Selina’s phone locking and slipping back into her pocket broke the silence of tension between the two men, everyone looking to her as she said, “I’ve messaged Query and Echo; they’re coming straight from Metropolis and they can stay with Edward to look after him while he recovers.”

A possessiveness briefly kindled in Oswald, but he calmed it with the rational sense of having two of Edward’s closest friends to watch him for a while in case, and simply turned to look upon Edward again. “When can we awaken him?”

“Jervis’ card is keeping him a state similar to a medically-induced coma at the moment to aid recovery,” Jonathan stated. “Ideally we should let him rest as long as possible, but without the necessary equipment to sustain his body in such a state I would advise we wake him within the next couple of hours.”

“When a little colour has returned to his skin, perhaps?” Jervis suggested, approaching Jonathan’s side. “”Mouse, dear! Do come back again, and we won’t talk about cats or dogs either, if you don’t like them.”’”

“You think it might be best not to ask?” Jonathan said, as ridiculously good at translating Jervis’ quotes as ever.

Jervis considered for a moment, then continued, “’When the Mouse heard this, it turned round and swam slowly back to her; its face was quite pale (with passion, Alice thought), and it said in a low, trembling voice, “Let us get to the shore, and then I’ll tell you my history, and you’ll understand why it is I hate cats and dogs.”’”

Jonathan frowned, humming dubiously. “I would like to know the reason now, even if Edward might want to wait until he feels better; I don’t feel safe leaving him like this, and if we let him recover it’ll only give him time to think he can cope again without any intervention.”

“Launch an attack while the poor man is on his sick bed?” Oswald summed up with a sharp, defensive edge.

“Edward is too impenetrable at any other time,” Jonathan simply said. “If you want your answers, it must be now.”

Put out, Oswald simply scowled and exhaled harshly.  It felt heartless, but that word ‘impenetrable’... He couldn’t deny how much he wanted to use it as well when it came to Edward; he didn’t want to admit it, pride that would be hurt by such a failure he supposed, but it probably was this or never if he was going to get in.

Jervis had sufficiently recovered – Quoting something about hay and considering throwing ink over himself – to go finish the cleaning downstairs, urging Oswald to stay here though and taking Jonathan instead. Selina didn’t leave the bedroom either, some comfort that they could wait awkwardly in silence together; she came up with the idea to raid Edward’s bookcase for something to do while they waited, each settling into something alone from Edward’s collection in the end.

Edward’s bookshelf was hardly anything compared to the collection of Jonathan and Jervis’ that spanned all three of the other couple’s hideouts, but Oswald took his time with the contents in any case: Colourful volumes of a few translated manga series, a few humour books in the vein of ridiculous but true answers on quiz shows and the like, a copy of the two _Alice_ stories likely gifted by Jervis or for understanding him, rather a number of trivia books of all ages and sizes, non-fiction on the sociology of video games and other media, a few well-worn mysteries from his youth judging by their thickness, an miscellanea of fiction titles that mainly looked sci-fi in some form and a stack of cheap puzzle books at the edge whenever he wanted something easy most likely. Downstairs in his workroom Edward had a few manuals and the sort in his workroom also, Oswald had noted once. That was as far as it went in terms of books and Edward Nygma however.

Oswald settled into one of the trivia books, learning that the full phrase was ‘The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese’, the pyramids were built while woolly mammoths still walked the earth and that male-male sex is more common than male-female sex among giraffes by the time that Jonathan and Jervis returned a while later, considering the patient again and fetching some fruit smoothie ready to wake him up.

Jonathan commandeered the group to help him turn Edward onto his back, propped up in pillows and spare cushions so he was supported with a gap for his wound and hopefully prevented from moving much to endanger opening it again.

Looking to them all for any objections, Jonathan then leaned over and took the card of Jervis’ from Edward’s forehead.

Edward tensed slightly almost immediately, not otherwise moving but obviously in control of himself once more as consciousness returned to him. Eventually uncertainty and confusion blossomed onto a small frown on his face, before his body actually began to twitch and his eyes suddenly snapped open, blinking rapidly from the sudden light and panic. Eventually they focused on the faces in the room, nothing but utterly blank puzzlement as to why they were here, and why he was here actually.

Edward made a small noise, testing his voice out again with a sound that conveyed his current disorientation. But his focused gaze on his surroundings was enough to show he could make sense of it all on a basic level again at least.

As soon as he was sufficiently aware and able to understand what was happening again, Jonathan stepped closer and slapped him hard across the face. “Idiot!” he shouted, drowning out the varyingly surprised scolds of the other three for hurting Edward in such a state. “You nearly died! I came so close to losing you!”

Oswald spared a brief moment to look at Jonathan’s normally pale face so flushed with emotion right now, anger, desperation and maybe even a little fear; he hadn’t meant that in a medical sense.

The pain didn’t seem to be registering in Edward’s current state, although he did come over quickly looking rather ill and shaky as another level of self-awareness returned.

“You’re hypovolemic from the blood loss, Edward,” Jervis stepped up much more kindly, smoothie in one hand but not offered yet. “Nausea, dizziness and any pain or fatigue are natural. Do you feel up to drinking something to help?”

Edward pulled a face that he obviously wasn’t, looking even iller at the thought for a moment. After a few measured breaths with closed eyes he took in the room again, bright green eyes finally settling on Oswald and instantly filling with a horrible look of panic and painful speechlessness.

Oswald himself had to look away, taking in the slightly healthier colour of Edward’s skin on his feet now before turning away entirely to leave the room as he heard Jervis encouraging the smoothie into Edward’s hands so he could take small sips.

Outside, with a heavy sigh, Oswald settled with his back leant against the wall of Edward’s upstairs hall where the voices of the bedroom were only unintelligible murmuring. In the peace of the hallway his mind was blank despite every thought and feeling he should and wanted to have; what was he even doing out here? Did he want to leave?

Only when Selina came to stick her head out, saying, “Edward finally spoke to ask where you went. I don’t think he’s going to say anything else until you come back,” did he realise how much he didn’t want to face Edward right now.

But Selina wasn’t going away, was she? He couldn’t leave the others to deal with this even if...

Even if they could probably do something, when he could do nothing.

Nothing but cause more of these problems, simply by loving Edward.

“My apologies,” Oswald mumbled politely, pushing himself off the wall to do his duty and walk back in.

Edward lit back up with a child-like excitement upon seeing him – Like a child seeing their parent, knowing comfort was finally at hand – that utterly threw Oswald, and he continued the rest of the journey to Edward’s bedside automatically in a state of uncertain surprise. Jonathan had migrated to the other side of the bed in the meantime to allow him access, Jervis and Selina at the bottom, and Edward had set down the smoothie in his lap, fingernail rhythmically running over the concertinaed bend of the straw in an autistic stim he watched wordlessly.

Oswald looked at the other three for a cue, none of them saying anything either, Jervis and Selina at least having the courtesy to also look uncertainly confused while Jonathan had returned to ‘resting bitch face’ and wasn’t really conveying anything as he frowned downwards thoughtfully.

Feeling he was the one who was meant to be taking the lead, Oswald looked to Edward and began to consider how exactly he should-

“‘~Surprise surprise! I understand your shock at getting wise~’” Edward sang quietly, voice lilting and child-like but with enough clarity to be deliberate communication.

He mumbled the next couple of lines, leaving Oswald to pick up, “’I knew what was wrong with me long before you did’,” with a horrible sense of realisation. “The song you mentioned the last time we spoke; it was a distress riddle...”

Jonathan returned his sharp gaze to the present conversation, taking in Edward still childishly stimming while Oswald had to look away in guilt. While he may not understand whatever song they were referencing, “This is not your problem or fault, Oswald,” he spoke up, making Edward at least flinch; “Edward needs to deal with his own problems rather than playing these cryptic games and expecting you to help him. Mutual support is an important part of a relationship but these sorts of mind games aren’t; you don’t get a free pass on that just because you’re the Riddler.”

Edward had completely stopped now, still and wordless as he simply watched his frozen finger.

“Trouble communicating these sorts of things is one of Edward’s problems,” Oswald pointed out, bristling with a defensiveness he couldn’t help as he faced off with Jonathan on the opposite side of the bed. “And I don’t care, whatever psychological... frippery you have to claim about what’s good for a relationship or otherwise; you won’t change the fact I still wish to help Edward anyway.”

He could see he was in the sight-line of the good doctor’s ire now he’d insulted Jonathan’s beloved psychological knowledge, but before the all-out brawl could begin- “Really?” Edward said, looking between them but ultimately turning to Oswald with such a desperate vulnerability that any hostility within him died.

Somehow he knew that was the first proper word Edward had spoken since waking, and he softened as he leant in slightly. “I said I would be with you even as you are now, mentally ill criminal and all,” Oswald reassured. “You don’t need to change, Edward. I just wish I could understand you, as I said, so I could help stop...” Well, the present situation was still too uncomfortable to quite put a name to.

Edward turned his gaze down again, then whined softly and at length after a moment. It was very obviously a creature in some form of pain or discomfort, but considering nothing physically had changed about him they could only wait until he had the words to explain whatever inner anguish it apparently was.

“...My intrusive thoughts are gone right now,” Edward finally said after a time, voice a little rough and prompting him to sip at his smoothie again. After setting it down, and frowning, “No, they’re still there... Just foggy...” He shook his head that it wasn’t an important matter right now, turning up to Oswald with a near-normal clarity and intelligence again finally. “Sorry. I... I know you’ve been trying to help and...”

“Have I been trying to help too much?” Oswald guessed, taking a lighter tone to let Edward off the hook if possible.

Edward shook his head though. “I should be letting you help, I know. It’s just...” He splayed a hand out, smoothing it down his leg in thought. “It’s not you, I want you to know that,” he managed to say. “I think- Maybe you’ve been thinking, I don’t know, feeling that I don’t like you showing me so much love. That is a little bit of it,” he admitted, having to take his time thinking again.

Oswald reached down, offering to take one of Edward’s hands in his for comfort.

Only for Edward’s to flinch away though, scared. “It’s because I love you so much,” he finally muttered, the heavy shame plainly clear. “It’s... this overwhelming feeling I can’t stop or control. And it feels dangerous, after what happened with... my mother...” he managed very quietly.

Oswald reached out, making contact this time to soothe Edward’s head through his hair. “You know you don’t need to worry about that; I’m a tough old bird.” That raised a faint smile.

“It’s why I refused Selina, why I told her,” Edward continued, “because that’s incomparable to this, and because I’m so proud and... happy.” He must know he seemed anything but right now. Sighing, “I can’t deal with it, on top of all my other intrusive thoughts and... my head feels so full lately, and now I’m being pulled in so many different directions about what I want and where I’m going to end up...”

“That you wanted to make it stop?” Oswald guessed compassionately, soothing through his hair again as Edward nodded.

“It’s overwhelming...” Edward returned to again plaintively, fiddling with his straw and falling silent again.

Everyone fell silent, nothing more to say currently which made it a comfortable quiet at least.

As ever, Edward couldn’t stay still long before he began fidgeting even in his state, prompting Jonathan to push him down forcibly when he looked ready to climb out of the bed. “I’m bored and I need to pee,” Edward objected with a huff. “I had pasta with too much sauce for lunch and then you kept me unconscious for... however long...” He began twisting about, looking for a clock.

“Would you have preferred me to catheterise you?” Jonathan asked, holding Edward down by a shoulder so he wouldn’t pull his stitches with the twisting. “Oswald, you take him.”

“Me?” Oswald had to object.

“You’re most acquainted with his genitals,” Jonathan said so clinically the two at the end of the bed started sniggering.

“I might dare dispute that,” he said, looking around the room at their present company. “...Ah, that wonderful and awkward moment when you realise everyone present has had sex with your boyfriend,” he observed with the upmost dryness.

“You can hardly blame them,” Edward murmured cheekily, proving his ego apparently ran on its own separate blood supply.

“Don’t forget Query and Echo,” Selina added. “Although they’ll be here soon.” Edward perked up, apparently having not heard that news yet. “...Well? Are you going to play nursemaid or not?” she teased.

Narrowing his eyes, and giving a good grumble, Oswald leant down to help Edward gently, hardly able to wait until Edward’s girls arrived already.

~#~

Query and Echo arrived by the end of the evening, ensuring someone would be with Edward overnight; even though he almost certainly knew why, Edward didn’t make any objection encouragingly. Oswald recalled his little method once they were here, that Echo was the one with the shorter hair and name, Nina, to match while Diedre with the long, blond hair was Query, given he would soon need it again.

The other rogues aware of the truth of the situation found excuses to drop by or contact him so they could check in on him as well, Oswald was quite aware; a few non-committal replies and they got the message he was still processing the matter however. Somehow it was easier receiving sympathy from those who didn’t know, his staff who could tell something was wrong but only offer a more generic support. It was even easier still to simply sit with his birds for hours, receiving comfort without questions or any of the uncomfortable looks people wore around him.

What Selina had said remained on his mind concerning Edward’s girls. As they were here with the sole purpose of caring for Edward, and very devoted about it, Oswald had no chance to speak to them in more than passing when he would come by to check on Edward.

Even in front of him however, Oswald could invite the two of them for complimentary drinks on him at the Lounge before they returned to Metropolis. The conversation quickly devolved into Edward asking if he could go to the Lounge, and his girls denying him on the grounds sex would open his wound again. When Edward, and also Oswald, had promised nothing so physical would occur, the two supposed they could let him drop by one night if he was well-behaved.

Thus, most of a week later, Oswald lit up and ordered one of Edward’s drinks on the house for him when he saw Edward making a rather quiet and uneasy journey across the Iceberg Lounge’s main floor one night. He refrained from helping Edward up onto one of the stools at the bar around the penguin enclosure for the sake of public face, instead appreciating Edward in a rather simple black shirt and dark green jeans for once, looking stylish and powerful to the distant eye but still far too vulnerable and subdued up close.

The waiter delivered Edward’s drink and left. Edward nibbled on its pocky stick for a moment before saying, “I only... I’m not ready to talk about it just yet; give me a little more time, Oswald.”

“There’s no need for us to speak about it if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“There is,” Edward stated plainly. “And I want to.”

Oswald fell quiet, conflicted by the rather determined expression on Edward’s face, one that spoke of far too much fear lying behind it.

Edward sipped at his drink again, fingers only fidgeting gently with the stem of the martini glass in a standard tic. His eyes flicked up after a moment of thought, settling deliberately elsewhere; they were naturally drawn by the penguins swimming about, the two kings slicing through the water one way and then the other as they chased one another. “...Why _Measure for Measure_? Claudio and Juliet,” He nodded to the two king penguins. “You said it’s your favourite Shakespeare play but I would have thought you would connect more with one of his tragedies.”

Oswald watched the penguin mates as well, swimming about so free and happy together without a care or worry. “...I’ve had enough tragedy in my life,” he said; “just for once, I wanted to hope I could have a comedy instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t read the [chapter on Edward’s backstory in my Hattecrow fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982985/chapters/38361455), particularly the part at the end, now might be a very good time so that this and particularly the next chapter make maximum sense.
> 
> All the facts in Edward’s trivia book are true too!


	9. Palomar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [Nina and Diedre reference](http://za-ra-h.tumblr.com/post/161741168151/riddlebat-it-felt-wrong-to-have-one-without-the), for my personal headcanon for their appearance.
> 
> There's a hyperlink to a song halfway through this chapter; you'll be able to follow along with the conversation even if you're not able to listen to it, but it'll help set the tone emotionally if you can either before or while reading the rest of the conversation. (Music has ended up taking such a central role in this story, and I'm sorry for inflicting my rather niche tastes on you all, but I kind of like the running theme it's created especially in relation to how Edward struggles to communicate directly.)

Oswald had been awaiting the evening when Edward’s girls walked through the doors of his Lounge. He got away from his current conversation as quickly as possible to come greet them, but not before taking a deep breath in preparation.

“Ladies.” They had taken seats at one of the bars but he gestured them towards the upper VIP floor, nodding to the bartender to bring their drinks on the house. “I take it from your present pleasing presence that Edward is-”

“Back to his usual obnoxiously intelligent and annoying self,” Nina confirmed. “He has enough energy to tell us we don’t know how to cook spaghetti bolognaise properly, complain about his towels being folded wrong and manipulatively beg his way into choosing the TV show every time we watch something together.”

Oswald chuckled a little as they took their seats. “I must say, he doesn’t behave that way around me.”

The two shared a significant look. “Wow, this relationship really does matter to him,” Diedre said, leaning on one elbow to assess Oswald more closely.

Given Nina had leant back with a similarly critical but more aloof appraisal, Oswald cleared his throat and fussed with a waistcoat button until he was thankfully saved by one of his waitstaff delivering the drinks. “So, does Edward speak about me?” he hoped he could be forgiven a little natural curiosity as the drinks seemed to satisfy.

Diedre chewed on the strawberry slice garnish of her Red Diamond, elegant fingers toying with the green stem in thought. “...You know, I don’t think he’s spoken about you once this whole time we’ve been back.”

As Oswald’s stomach tightened, he followed the conversation across to Nina who picked up, “Well, he’s answered our questions about you if we bring you up, but yeah that’s all.”

“But don’t take that personally,” Diedre continued; “he’s not talked much about anything lately, or certainly nothing meaningful at least if you know what I mean.”

“And that’s not natural conduct for him?” Oswald guessed, yet to even begin on his drink.

“Edward? No, it’s not,” Diedre admitted, taking a rather solemn tone as she dropped her gaze. “At first we thought it was just because he was still recovering, but he’s still quiet and distant even now- I mean, he’ll make a fuss about little things and demand entertainment sometimes but...”

“He’s only been like this once before,” Nina said, staring down into her own Cat’s Cream drink she was swirling as if her appetite was now gone. “Just before he sent the two of us away.”

“He told us it was time to fly the nest,” Diedre put more diplomatically. “He would also just sit there staring into space, making and scrapping little notes, looking like... he was sat all alone in the world, somehow, just Edward and himself. Like he had a wall up around him even when he’s sitting right next to you, you know?”

“He’s been that way almost the entire time since our arrangement began,” Oswald said, trying to keep a buoyant smile on his face even as the fruit punch he swallowed hit his stomach like acidic ice.

The two women looked at one another, Nina nodding simply that, “It must be love.” She snorted lightly at the look full of naivety Oswald gave her. “Edward pushes people away once he loves them; you know that, right?” He inclined his head that he’d picked up an idea of the sort. “He did it to us. He likes Selina because she’s impossible to pin down and love as more than a friend. We don’t know what happened with Jonathan and Jervis but Edward keeps them as best friends he has sex with and nothing more deliberately. That little seven-year-old boy, the one who lost his mother all those years ago; he’s always there, but he comes back to the surface when Edward loves someone.”

“Are you saying that he will do the same to me?” Oswald asked.

They looked at each other, genuinely caught without an answer for a moment. Oswald felt it too in his own self-surprising lack of nerves asking that. “I don’t know actually,” Diedre began, Nina inclining her head that they should dare to say it. “Even we don’t know what’s going on in Eddie’s head but everything we’ve heard about the two of you, how he’s been acting lately...”

“He’s really serious about something,” Nina settled for. “He’s got that feel about him he used to get just before announcing a heist plan or something, so whatever it is I think you’re going to hear it soon.”

“I couldn’t entice the two of you to stay in our fair city as moral support?” Oswald teased on top of his newly simmering anxiety.

“For you, or him?” Nina chuckled once.

“I think this is something the two of you need to be alone for – We might even be holding things up,” Diedre told him. “Anyway, tell us when you set a date for the wedding!”

“Is that a hint, or friendly facetious foolery?” Oswald asked with narrowed eyes.

“You tell us,” Nina said. “Now,” She drained her entire remaining drink in one go, pushing the empty glass forward onto the table and clicking her fingers, “I believe we were offered free drinks on the house all night.”

He sighed, watching Diedre do the same and flag down a poor waiter between them. “Edward certainly trained the two of you well in one regard...”

~#~

A few days later Oswald received a text from Edward setting a date and time for their talk at Oswald’s mansion, and a command for Oswald to come drag him there if he didn’t turn up willingly.

No dragging was necessary in the end, although Edward cut it fine time-wise – Or maybe he was simply being autistic about turning up on exactly the minute he had set – and came in looking as if he’d emotionally dragged himself here.

Selecting the dining room, Edward gestured for them both to sit before he sighed, reaching into a pocket. Oswald noted the pale white and blue plaid shirt with a hood and navy jeans, a complete lack of green even in accessories for once; he really did want this just to be them.

Edward went to begin, but seemed to catch himself. “I have what I want to say planned out and how I’m going to say it, what I need to do. But afterwards I’m not going to be in the best state to listen to anything _you_ have to say. I didn’t think about it when I was planning this out but I just realised you might have something you want to say to me,” he admitted sheepishly, in an obvious unease from going off-plan for this. “I’m sorry, I really haven’t been thinking about you and what these past few weeks might have been like after...”

“You’ve had your own issues to address, and I can take care of myself,” Oswald assured him. “Besides, I’ve been glad of the time to process... the situation; I’ve been too often given to emotional responses in my life with my anger problems.”

“I think it’d be fair to feel something after what you’ve been put through,” Edward chuckled slightly.

“Yes, but there are better and worse ways of expressing it.” Oswald gave it thought for a moment, not that he had been given much else thought these past few weeks. “It... scared me, Edward, most of anything,” he finally said. “Both in an obvious physical sense but also that I hadn’t known something so important about you, that had been happening in your life. I didn’t want to come back into that room when I left, but then you looked so uplifted when I did... I don’t honestly know if I help or hurt you; that’s the conundrum that’s been consuming my mind for the past however long, without myself having conjured a conclusion sadly.”

Edward pulled a pained face, considering that for a moment as his forefingers tapped gently at the table edge. Even he seemed without answer, admitting, “It’s... What I was going to tell you today will explain that, if you don’t mind?” Oswald gestured for him to proceed.

Edward removed two things from his pockets: A green iPod, touchscreen but far from a recent model, with headphones, and a small medical pill bottle.

“For the record,” he began, “I absolutely hate that I have to do this but I couldn’t come up with another way we could have this conversation.” He held up the pill bottle, mostly full and rattling as it moved. “This is one of the medications they give me at Arkham sometimes, when they want to sedate my intelligence. It prevents me having intrusive thoughts but at the cost of precluding me from most other thoughts I want to have too.” He scowled at the bottle, focusing on it for a moment, before resolving himself and looking up at Oswald again. “They take a little while to kick in, like a paracetamol. My mind is going to rebel against me willingly taking them and I’ll be having intrusive thoughts from when I take them to when their effects kick in.”

“How long will the effects last?” Oswald asked during a natural pause in Edward’s flow.

“Like a paracetamol, about four hours.” Edward frowned dubiously at the little pills. “I’m not sure they aren’t just some mutant form of paracetamol actually, the way pharmaceutical companies in America act in the pursuit of profits. Anyway,” Now he picked up the iPod, moving it across to place in front of Oswald, “I’m going to need to go into another room to cope with the intrusive thoughts until the pills kick in. In the meantime I wanted you to listen to something.”

Oswald picked up the iPod carefully, clicking one of the only buttons on it to light up the screen with a simple slide-bar to unlock. More importantly the lockscreen photo was a rather glamorous concert photo of Barenaked Ladies’ current lead singer Ed, he recognised, one that made the musician look rather attractive; competition?

“Back in 1992 Barenaked Ladies guested on the album _Whale Music_ by the Rheostatics, good friends of theirs and another notable Canadian band,” Edward began, getting to his point; “there’s a song from that album, not the one BNL was on but anyway, that I want you to listen to while I’m gone: ‘Palomar’. It should already be scrolled there in the list.”

Actually unlocking the iPod, Oswald found the particular song right under his thumb ready.

“I know this is a strange request,” Edward continued, “but it’s just... It’s simpler than trying to find a way to say it myself.” He was rubbing uncomfortably at his neck by this point, nearing his limit for these difficult things already apparently. “I need to spoil the symbolism of the song for you to make sure you’ll get it in time, but the ‘man’ is a person’s mind while the ‘dog’ is the heart/body. I should hope you can work out what things like ‘cleaning his lenses with saline water’ are by yourself with that starting point.”

Oswald found himself smiling; he had to. “So this time you _are_ setting me a riddle in your music recommendation?” he asked simply to be facetious.

Edward appeared caught for a moment, before realising it was only meant in humour. He still couldn’t quite relax in his current state but, “Yes. Or sort of; I’ve been listening to that song a lot lately, trying to think how to put those sorts of feelings into words, but in the end... Right now, when this is... a complicated subject for someone to put into words,” he alluded, “it seemed expedient.”

“Music can capture more than its simple lyrics; it is the purpose of art, after all,” Oswald said in agreed understanding.

Edward nodded, fidgeting a moment longer before seeming settled that he could put his trust in Oswald. “Do you mind if I...?” He pointed off, opening the pill bottle then disappearing to the bathroom to wash his hands before returning and tipping two out into his palm.

He grimaced, but in the end Edward looked at Oswald and swallowed them.

Obviously there were no immediate physical effects. Edward simply stood for a moment, hand clenched and eyes pressed shut, before he let out a heavy and controlled exhale. His hands shook badly as he forced the pill bottle closed, it tipping onto its side without being righted before he paced out of the room under an intense internal pressure Oswald easily could see. The pacing footsteps took Edward around much of the lower house in a haste, looping through a decreasing number of rooms until in the end they rushed for the stairs, barrelling up them and straight to the bedroom. They finally settled there, a painfully loud silence falling as Oswald waited with strained ears for each slightest sound.

Soon he was sick of twitching at every creak of the house and chirp of his birds out in the garden. His stomach was twisted, thinking of what Edward may be doing up there – Images of the self-harm wound helping nothing – and reasons it would be so deathly silent.

But he too took a controlled exhale and turned his attention to the iPod instead, unfolding and adjusting Edward’s headphones to fit his ears. He couldn’t keep himself from a quick listen again to that anxious and uncomfortable silence in the house, before he blocked it back out, pressing play on ‘[Palomar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHO_oy1a_aw)’.

Oswald had listened to it a good few times, taken off the headphones to think, then listened to it a couple times more by the time Edward returned to the room.

Sluggish, with a hand trailing on his surroundings for some sort of grounding it looked like, Edward let himself drop into the seat he had occupied before. The pill bottle on the table confused him for a moment until he recognised it halfway to his face to inspect, then he had a similar moment of perplexity about his iPod and headphones resting in front of Oswald before, “Oh. Right. The song.”

Oswald supposed that was the metronome setting the tempo of this forthcoming conversation. “Are you all right, Edward?” he really had to ask, too much concern not to.

Even that took a moment for Edward to wave a hand, “Fine. Or... I can just about think,” before pressing his forehead into it as he frowned in general disorientation. “Um... Did you...?” he gestured in the direction of the iPod.

Oswald’s hand closed around it, gaze settling on its now dark screen as well. “I did, a number of times; I wanted to ensure...” He glanced up at Edward briefly before beginning, “A person torn between their body and heart’s natural desires, and his lonely intelligence.”

“Scared to change or engage with the world,” Edward managed to pick up, “who prefers to be alone with himself, in control of himself. But _God_ is he lonely,” he rushed out, face still half-buried in a hand. “So lonely...”

“Who fears that love will destroy the precarious balance of his life, will overtake the intelligence he so loves and prides himself on?” Oswald guessed gently, unable not to take pity on the fiercely pained and miserable expression peeking out from behind the side of Edward’s hand.

“Who fears that the happiness he’d find would destroy everything, all his plans... and his very self,” Edward murmured painfully, face pulling tight to even admit it. “If, at the end of it all, he’d give it all up just to be happy and normal...” His brows tightened, closed eyes searching for, “what that would mean about... if he’d wasted his whole life, if this was what he really wanted all along.” He sighed heavily, burying an almost sob-like hiccup in it. “How stupid such an intelligent man would be...”

So many of the song’s lyrics echoed in Oswald’s head, fitting together into such a clear picture of Edward’s own mountain and the happy, little life teetering so close on the edge of it now. “...I must say I’m not terribly pleased about playing the part of a female dog bearing your offspring in this lyrical allegory,” Oswald began with a dry tone, causing Edward to snort in amusement and break down into slightly unhinged laughter in his current mental state. “But I believe I understand now, Edward.”

Calming again with a sigh, “Sorry. You should have understood long ago if I...” Edward waved at his own head with his free hand. “I should have found some way of telling you all this sooner. Whenever I... The times I left suddenly, that I disappeared between our meetings... You make my head so full...”

Taking a moment to consider, Oswald hoped he could ask, “What are they like? The intrusive thoughts?” He could see Edward pull a face already. “Those negatives thoughts and fears about yourself you mentioned just now?”

“That sort of thing or, um... needing to leave riddles or something so people know it’s me too after crimes, that stuff. But personally, privately, yeah it’s like this,” Edward said, taking his time and describing, “Even something like admitting I suffer from intrusive thoughts brings them on; something negative, a flaw, the fact I can’t control my own mind... It’s like...” he struggled, “like any time something would be a gap in my armour, one I can’t defend with an excuse... The thoughts just won’t shut up about it because I’m scared it’ll be used to, you know...” He sighed. “Eventually they calm down and go away if I don’t get attacked, but in the moment I just panic and... and if I’m not perfect...” He seemed to have reached his limit there, falling silent frowning with a rare puzzlement for him.

Well, it certainly wasn’t an alien idea for Oswald. “It’s hard to be vulnerable if it’s never led to anything but the infliction of pain,” he mentioned in understanding. “Love and intimacy necessitate vulnerability; I see now, how my presence has aggravated this over the past few months. That’s why you...” He didn’t want to say it.

And neither did Edward, nodding rapidly so they could move on from such a shamefully colossal vulnerability in his armour.

Oswald’s hands fiddled with the iPod in unease, mentally returning him to the other topic on this current table. “...So you fear being in love will destroy your very identity, that this relationship is incompatible with the current life of yours that you otherwise want to lead,” he said, already biting on his lip in fear of what might come out of Edward’s mouth now.

When he dared glance up though Edward was shaking his head into his hand, fully turning his face into the shadow of it now. “I... It’s changing,” he managed, heavy with a surprising note of fear. “That time I... I said it was overwhelming, didn’t I?” he checked. “That time when I asked if I made you want to be a better person, I...” Edward screwed his face up, rubbing at a temple in frustration.

“...I’m making you want to change,” Oswald guessed. “Your heart and body have already begun running away from you, haven’t they?”

After a moment’s more painful silence with Edward’s face buried into his palm, he pulled himself free. Though still rather dazed from the medication, the sheer misery on his face was clear. He began to grope through his pockets for something though, “I didn’t- I kept writing this out then having to tear it up because of the intrusive thoughts but I- Earlier I managed to...” He eventually pulled out a scrap of paper with simple words or phrases of only a few words on it, smoothing it out clumsily on the tabletop in front of him.

Oswald watched him running a finger over the words, frowning at them as he tried to reform the sentences that would connect them presumably.

Eventually Edward’s finger settled on the first one, beginning, “You’re the first person who’s made me feel like I have a light shining on my path again since my mother, Oswald.”

The significance of that hit Oswald hard enough to make him gasp. Edward did notice, slightly hazy emerald eyes settling on Oswald for a moment, before Edward returned them to the sheet and traced across to the next word.

“Until now,” Edward continued, “it feels like I’ve just been flailing around in the dark, throwing tantrums, because it felt like nothing mattered or meant anything my whole life since my mother died. If she wasn’t there to, you know... what does any of it mean? I’ve not been able to move on, nor wanted to. But now...” Oswald waited without breathing as Edward’s finger got lost among the words for a moment, in the end just barely finding its way to, “Now there’s a light on again. But I’m scared to go towards it as I don’t know what it’ll mean to go there. Except that something will change. That I’ll become a different person, that everything’ll change inside me if I allow someone else in. And I’ll finally move on.”

Seeing there were no more words on the sheet, “...Do you want to-?” No. Oswald’s hand brushed the iPod again, realising, “One half of you wants to finally move on, but the other doesn’t.”

Edward nodded drowsily, hand scrunching up the sheet as he had to rest his head in the other hand again.

Oswald only let out a soft, “Ah,” settling back in his chair in thought.

Edward was torn, and the torture of it was literally leading him to tear himself apart. No one could decide for him, but every step in either direction took him further away from something he wanted.

The final lyrics of the song caught in his mind, ‘that love is thicker than brains in a man, or a dog’, as Oswald imagined they must have done each time Edward had listened to this.

Love, or the natural desires it was based in, likely would win out over intelligence. Although it was probably less which one won than that one would win without Edward’s choice, that his life would be taken out of his control and away from him simply with time if this situation continued; there never was anything like a ticking clock when you really needed to heighten an anxiety.

Edward looked pitifully subdued by the medication at this point, waiting wearily on Oswald and simply trying to keep a sustained awareness of the present moment.

Oswald sighed. “All of my own struggles with sexual and romantic intimacy, not to begin on the subject of my self-esteem, and now also these problems our relationship is causing you...” He could see Edward watching him with far too innocent eyes, expecting some big saving turn in direction. “Perhaps _Gotham_ was correct about the two of us,” Oswald could only say in the end though; “perhaps some individuals simply are too damaged for things to work out even if we do manage to find love.”

Edward didn’t fight it, sinking more weakly into his seat perhaps, but only continuing to listen without objection.

“You know,” Oswald began anew with a small noise of amusement, “I learnt in mentioning the matter to Robin that the writers weren’t actually aware of the amount of assistance you provided to me during my real reform; curiously apt of them then, when I also wouldn’t have made and survived that time without you. Although I will admit I can’t quite see you saying, "I want you to know, Oswald, I would do anything for you. You can always count on me," and all that sort of saccharine they injected into our involvement with one another,” he added on a note of further humour.

“Agreed. I would never say that,” Edward smiled. “But it’s still true,” he said, surprising Oswald and then himself that Oswald had been surprised. “...Would you be there for me?” he asked so honestly it seemed painful. “I... I couldn’t get through this, in the same way you couldn’t without me; I’d need you.”

“Do you want to?”

Edward hesitated, which said enough. “If I did,” he settled on clarifying. “I think, maybe... I’m starting to want to try changing,” he put very carefully. “I don’t even know if I’d be able to... But I know I’d need you, like you needed me.” Edward stumbled up from his seat, shifting round the table to drop into the one beside Oswald. He put his hand up on the table, taking Oswald’s from its resting position and manually turning it into position so he could slide his second and third fingers between Oswald’s two fused sets, Edward’s first and fourth wrapping around the whole thing like a hug. “This is why we’re together,” he said, looking up so he could smile at Oswald even in his current state, “why we’re different to all the other people in our lives we share more with or could be with.”

Oswald looked down at their hugging hands, feeling Edward’s tired head drop onto his shoulder. He turned to that side, using his free hand to gently hold Edward’s head there as he pressed a kiss into the slicked back ginger hair and then rested his beak-like nose against Edward’s scalp and the mind within.


	10. I'll Point You Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re disappointed the second scene gets a bit skimmy it’s only because I didn’t want to get too OC-heavy or stray into real-person fic this time; either way I was bound to disappoint one crowd or the other. For space is the main reason I chose to cut it because, as you’ll see, there was a lot else to pack into this penultimate chapter.
> 
> Also, spoilers for season 5 of _Gotham_ in the form of things that were leaked about its later episodes.

Edward needed his space directly after that all-important conversation; understandable, Oswald could accept, but still a rather anxiety-inducing prospect at this time. He dared to venture if Edward would text him at least once a day, to let Oswald know that he was coping okay – Although doubts did whisper in his ear that Edward would very likely lie rather than admit he wasn’t – which Edward accepted. Still Oswald agonised over the texts’ trustworthiness, but if Edward was able to send them then he wasn’t dying of bleeding out at least.

As the end of September soon approached, Oswald was surprised one evening to instead be invited into a phone call, one in which Edward wanted to ask, “So what time are we setting off for the concert on Tuesday?”

Oswald really had to blink a few times. “...You still intend to attend?”

“Well, sure,” Edward answered as if it was obvious- “Oh, I see. Your presentation of the tickets must have seemed like the thing that pushed me over. Well, it might have been but only because it made me realise how well you understood me, and in turn how much I loved you.” Oswald thought he heard a little chuckle on Edward’s end in response to his own slight gasp. “I know we’ve gone at this backwards, having started with sex and moved into romance and finally emotional intimacy, but I think it’s about time we went on our first proper date, yes? Well, one I actually consider a date instead of just a dinner and sex with a friend.”

“Well, I...” There was no way Oswald would say no to that, but, “Are you certain that it won’t aggravate your...?”

Edward hummed. “The concert itself shouldn’t, no. My favourite music is an autistic special interest so it helps calm me, if anything. I suppose sharing it with you might be a little significant, but it shouldn’t be any more than being presented with the tickets was; I’ve adjusted to this level now, however.”

“I see,” Oswald accepted, only fearful instead of doubtful.

“You didn’t make other plans did you?” Edward gasped in camp offence. “Who else are you going on dates with? You better not have given my ticket away.”

“No, no, nothing of the sort,” Oswald assured, digging in his desk to find them again where he’d pushed them out of sight for peace of mind after what they had caused. “It’s simply that... On such short notice, when I’m patently not unwell, my staff will want to know where I’m going; they’ve become suspicious anyway of all my evenings at my mansion lately.”

“Did you tell them about my...?”

“Your accident?” Oswald guessed as he pulled out the tickets, checking they were still in the envelope. “No details, only that you’d suffered an accidental injury and I was doing my part as a close friend helping you recover.”

Edward hummed, but it didn’t sound disapproving. Contrarily, it turned out to be, “So, is it finally time to tell your staff?”

“Why do you sound excited about that prospect?” Oswald asked. “I believed that you, well...”

“You heard what I said to Selina about the pride I have in our relationship,” Edward said as if it should be obvious. “And I do know, with the way your staff gossip to their family, that this will become a public secret once we do this. Are you okay with that, Oswald?”

To go public? “Well, most of them believe us to be together anyway,” he mentioned dryly to give himself time to consider it. “I suppose... I can’t find that I have any objections to the idea,” he decided.

“Aw, you’re not proud of us?” Edward teased.

“Why do I feel baited into stroking your ego suddenly?” Oswald replied, ignoring Edward’s comments about it having been a while since Oswald had stroked certain other parts of him to continue, “I am... proud. I only fear that, given our status, we might simply be opening ourselves up to derision- Although I suppose anyone with that intention likely has no care for the truth in any case.” He sighed. “I really couldn’t care less about the public, but I would like to inform my staff given I consider them practically family- and it will probably boost patronage of the Lounge again, actually,” Oswald realised more keenly, earning a sigh from Edward this time.

“In that case I want to be there when we tell them – Your weekly staff meetings are on Monday afternoons, correct? I’ll be there tomorrow~!”

“Oh, very well,” Oswald accepted, finding he was smiling nonetheless. “2pm, and the same on Tuesday perhaps? While in New York I wouldn’t mind visiting Robin, if you can be civil or else amuse yourself in the meantime.”

“I did promise Cory I’d drop off some of my old Riddler accessories for the filming actually...” Edward mentioned far too casually, completely unaware of how wide Oswald’s eyes went on the other end as he held his phone away from him to stare at for a moment.

When he returned it to his ear, “Cory? As in Cory Michael Smith?”

“Yes- Oh, I didn’t tell you about that?” Edward simply chuckled. “I suppose it was just before my... I watched that new film he stars in, _1985_ ; he’s actually not a bad actor, when he’s not attempting to reach my level at least with that abysmal writing _Gotham_ has. I wanted to tell him as such so I sent a fake app update to his phone that let me take control of its microphone and camera to force him into a video chat.”

Even for all he knew Edward far too well after all these years, “...Your social skills remain atrocious, Edward,” Oswald had to say.

“Given the fact he seemed to have become afraid of me for some reason,” Edward countered, causing Oswald to shake his head at the pure ignorance of the situation, “I couldn’t think of any other way to make sure he would talk to me.” You know what, Oswald decided he wasn’t even going to try and correct Edward on any of this; Cory had made his own bed when he agreed to take on the role of someone as infamous and touchy as Edward. “I think we’re friends now!” Edward claimed so happily that Oswald leant towards doubting it.

He simply sighed. “Very well,” Oswald agreed. “In that case, you can attempt to go and not bother Cory too egregiously while I visit Robin.”

Edward scoffed. “Cory is lucky I deign to spend my time on him after the smear his interpretation has left on my reputation.”

Well, as long as Edward didn’t get them arrested in New York before the concert, he could always hope...

~#~

Come Monday afternoon as Oswald took his seat at the staff meeting table with Edward’s conspicuous presence stood at his elbow, looking around he could see already every member of his staff already suspected what he was about to announce. He decided to get it out of the way first, and as expected it ended up derailing the whole meeting in the end.

Oswald wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fact his staff had been placing bets on the matter; somehow it wasn’t quite as funny as the _Gotham_ betting board, currently in storage until season 5, to be on the receiving end of.

The whole matter shouldn’t have affected the meeting’s business, aside from the fact that Edward was now to get free drinks, within reason, like Oswald himself and also that he needed to make clear to everyone, including and particularly Edward, that his staff did not have to obey Edward however he might try to act going forward. But despite that his kinder staff all wanted to make a completely unnecessary, congratulatory fuss, even talking about a party to celebrate the boss finally finding love, while the more mischievous staff set to work with far too many personal questions and quips, all of which Edward was far too pleased to indulge to humiliate Oswald.

Come Tuesday afternoon, after the previous evening of knowing looks and pleased grins he’d endured from his staff so riding high on the news, Oswald was only too glad to get away in the direction of New York City on the roads that left Gotham far behind. He drove, actually being, you know, legally capable of owning and driving a legitimately purchased car, while Edward played one BNL song after another on the stereo and info-dumped about each one to pass the trip, when he wasn’t distracted by pointing out every scarecrow in the field they passed with the same joke about Jonathan or critiquing the poor choice of vehicle nearly every other driver on the road was guilty of.

The little place they could meet up with the actors just off _Gotham’s_ set, even if only briefly due to the demands of filming, was welcome relief, and since Cory Michael Smith survived the encounter with all of his blood still within his body Oswald was going to count the little liaison a success. The news of Oswald and Edward’s real life relationship couldn’t be used to barter more spoilers about season 5, despite Edward’s best efforts, only congratulations and best wishes which Edward found a very boring consolation prize.

Oswald could therefore surely be forgiven his concern at the sudden silence that came over Edward as they sat down to eat their small picnic evening meal in as private a spot as New York ever had.

When asked though, Edward simply startled with surprise Oswald was even asking if something was wrong. “I’m just tired- Or not tired. Do you know the spoon theory of disability?” he said, setting down his salad as Oswald vaguely nodded. “Well, it’s an energy analogy, and for me at least there are different types of spoons inside of the drawer; I’ve simply used up all my talking ones. Normally I cover it with a more disdainful attitude that the people around me are boring me, or don’t deserve to hear my voice, but I thought I didn’t need to hide it with you?” he genuinely, and cutely, seemed uncertain about that.

“Yes, of course not. It’s simply that you were so garrulous on the car ride here, and then with our actors...”

“I was excited. I’m still excited; I’m just not expressing it anymore,” Edward said plainly, returning to eating.

Oswald waited for the rest, but that was all. He considered Edward, picking through the vegetable chunks with his fork to pull out one at a time like a child, removing the celery chunks with exaggerated disgust onto the lid of his Tupperware. “...You really are a lot simpler than I continue to expect,” he finally admitted. In reply to Edward’s curious look, “You cultivate such a... deific demeanour, yet you’re simply a human being in actuality.”

Edward chewed on that along with his current tomato slice. “...Jonathan once mentioned something to the effect that Scarecrow, being the ‘God of Fear’, helps protect him by cultivating a fear and respect a mere human identity couldn’t. In his position, after the past bullying he’s received and the retaliation he would receive for his current behaviour...” he left Oswald to fill in the rest, including relating the same to Edward himself.

If this was necessary for Edward’s comfort, at least in a potentially public space such as this, “How does Jervis manage it, given such a shielding status hardly lends itself to the emotional vulnerability required for a romantic relationship?”

Edward chuckled. “You know, I think the two of them fell in love the very first time they met – Jervis beating Jonathan at chess, while also demonstrating he had figured out the recipe to Jonathan’s fear toxin and making Jonathan laugh at one of Jervis’ abysmally awful jokes helped – and Jonathan is... He doesn’t mince words or care what people think of him, past keeping them afraid enough not to attack or interfere with him. I think Jervis’ aversion to reality when it’s not to his liking also helps.”

“He penetrated it with naiveté, you mean?” Oswald hummed dubiously, the parallel having reached the end of its usefulness given he was... well, there was hardly a word further from what he was. “They’re a curious couple, wouldn’t you consider?”

“They get on ridiculously well; I’ve never seen them fight with each other, they always work everything out with rational logic together no matter how emotional or complicated it is and despite being stuck together 24/7 in a shared cell whenever they’re in Arkham they’ve never even tried to kill each other!” Oswald laughed at Edward’s histrionic little fit about the whole thing. “They say it’s because they’re both autistic but it’s unnatural; I think Jervis must have snuck a card onto Jonathan’s head to make him permanently compliant or something...”

“I’m sure they do have their difficulties in private,” Oswald said for their sake, although he truly wondered too from what he’d seen. “Miss Quinzel and Miss Isley are at the complete other end of the spectrum however.”

“They actually seem to have gone without setting fire to each other or leaving the house to stay at Selina’s for at least three months now,” Edward countered, although Oswald’s general point still stood. “They must have all their agreements in private and do all their fights publicly instead,” he said wryly.

Oswald chuckled in agreement of that. “We’ll have to do our part to catch up, I suppose.”

“Mm, once one of the spouses of your staff sells the news of our relationship to the press in return for you stiffing them on a Christmas bonus we’ll have to start having lots of public arguments and resolutions to keep everyone entertained; it’s what they’ll be expecting thanks to _Gotham_.”

“I do not ‘stiff’ my staff on Christmas bonuses,” Oswald pointedly objected.

“Now, now, dear; there’s no need to start yet.”

Oswald rolled his eyes away, ignoring Edward giggling to himself in self-amusement. He allowed Edward to fall silent again for the sake of conserving energy for the concert, taking pleasure in the fact they could enjoy a companionable silence together, even if it had taken so much time and pain.

~#~

Edward let out an exhale of content peace as he stepped out from the side door into the cold night air, looking back at Oswald shutting it uneasily behind them. “Oh? You didn’t want to get your album autographed, did you?” he checked.

Oswald turned round to him with a frown. “I was attempting to ascertain if we were the ones at peril from avid autograph aficionados, actually!” he said, tutting as he caught up to Edward’s long strides down the quiet back street. “Was it really quite necessary for you to heckle the band like that?!”

“ _Steve_ was the one who recognised _me_ in the audience!” Edward defended. “Surely you didn’t want me to be impolite and not reply?”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to so blatantly alert him of my presence, or inform the rest of the audience as to the nature of our ‘date’!”

“I wanted to boast!” Edward protested innocently again. “I thought that was a very good joke of Steve’s to pretend you were there to break his legs because he owed you money.”

Oswald sighed, casting glances along the street which remained thankfully empty as their footsteps echoed along the sidewalks back to their car. “...Was there a particular reason for that song you requested?” he finally dared to ask. “A favourite of yours?”

Edward kept his gaze ahead, eventually answering, “‘[Call and Answer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3AmY5HXzgA)’? It seemed fitting.” Oswald’s eyebrow rose, considering that. After checking his phone for any urgent new messages, Edward took a breath of the painfully cold night air and faced forward again. “~I... think, it’s getting to the point where I can be myself again~” He sung clearly, if at a sensibly tempered volume in a fair and peaceful voice. “~I... think, it’s getting to the point where we have almost made amends~” He looked to Oswald, and Oswald really hoped he wasn’t being expected to sing along. “~I... think, it’s the getting to the point that is the hardest part~” Edward continued on through the first chorus, more to himself now, before dwindling into thought. “...Do you know that was the last song Steve ever sung with Barenaked Ladies, in the encore of their final concert? The final word he ever sung with them was ‘rebuild’.”

Oswald reflected the best he could on the one listen he’d ever gotten, certain lines about ‘playing games’ and ‘crucifying’ all that stuck out in his memory.

“...The life I’ve built isn’t necessarily the one I want to have most anymore, Oswald,” Edward suddenly said, having been caught in thoughts of his own. “I still can’t tell you that I wholly and completely want to change – As much as I hate to credit that show with anything in relation to myself, the idea of a separate Edward and Riddler at odds with one another is starting to feel uncomfortably apt right now – but maybe it’s time to... rebuild,” he settled on uneasily.

“Would your pride prefer we persist with ‘Palomar’ parallels?” Oswald offered, unable not to softly laugh a little though.

Edward made a show of grumping about the whole thing in general, but let it drop for now. They walked on in silence under the streetlights and intermittent dark between, avoiding other pedestrians when necessary as they cut through New York’s cleaner but more peculiar backstreets.

Edward came to a stop under one non-descript, standing street light in one of the quietest. It’s only solitary feature of note was its particularly orange glow; bathed in it, Edward’s pale skin glowed nearly the colour of his hair with a soft warmth. “...My biggest... regret in life,” he began so quietly, “is that I can’t share how happy I am now with my mother, that I can’t show her that I did okay in the end.”

Oswald was going to kindly assume staring into the light like that was the reason Edward’s eyes were watering so. “I wish that I could have met your mother, Edward,” he simply said.

“So do I...” Edward stared into the orange warmth of the light a moment longer, before turning to Oswald with the slightest surprise opening up a vulnerability in his features. “Thank you. You.. understand what she means to me.”

“I do, and I don’t want to push you to leave her behind,” Oswald said, stepping forward into the spilling light as well.

Edward considered that a moment, asking, “Would you let me go? If this relationship wasn’t something I could cope with?”

Oswald had to sigh before he answered that one; he’d given it enough thought over the past few weeks now. “I would. And I would like to hope we could return to just being friends afterwards, but I would understand that might not be possible either. I’ve become quite used to being alone, to never getting anything I truly want, in my life, so it’s a pain I could accept. Although I think it would be the last time I could ever dare to open myself up like this.” He saw Edward wince slightly at that, using the gesture to subtly brush away what tears were left on his face. “Not to put any undue pressure on your decision,” Oswald added in an attempt to save them both with a little levity.

Edward turned back up to the light, eventually sighing. “...Sometimes I wonder if my mother would still love me, if she were alive, though. After everything I’ve done as the Riddler...” His gaze dropping to the floor plunged his face into the shadow of himself, warmth only glinting off similarly orange hair now. “Maybe I don’t want to come back out into the light and see my life for what it is, what I can’t see while still in the dark...”

Oswald looked down into Edward’s own shadow, only able to say, “That is a decision you have to make for yourself, Edward. All I can give you is my assurance I will be with you, whatever conclusion you reach.”

“I know. ...But thank you.” It looked as if his lip jutted out in a small pout in the darkness. “It’s such a big job it’s not as if I’d be getting there any time anyway.”

That amused Oswald again. He was waiting, considering asking if they could walk on yet given the autumnal chill and what, but then he finally noticed Edward’s fingers drumming against the side of his thigh rapidly. “Edward? Are you...?” he didn’t want to aggravate it by asking directly.

Edward looking up at his face allowed him to guess. “Yeah, they’re back...” he said, rubbing his head in useless comfort.

“You do know that even if you unveil to me your vulnerabilities that I wouldn’t use them to harm you?” Oswald tried to reassure.

Edward only snorted lightly though; of course it didn’t work like that, and Oswald already knew it. “As long as it could possibly happen, that’s enough to fear.”

What could you say against anxiety like that? Oswald didn’t have the personal experience to offer any more words.

All he could think to do was reach out and take Edward’s hand in his, attempting to slide their fingers together.

Edward genuinely startled at the gesture, catching up after a moment to do his necessary half to entwine their fingers given the unusual shape of Oswald’s. He simply considered the arrangement for a moment once done, expression blankly surprised, before uttering with a similar emotional sentiment, “That... actually helps.” He quickly put it together that, “Physical contact is overwhelming when I’m agitated, but I didn’t realise... Maybe the right kind might be...”

“It’s suppressing the thoughts?”

Edward actually nodded mutely. “It’s not perfect but...”

“But it’s better than certain other methods, shall we say?” Oswald encouraged him to agree.

Edward was still caught on their hugging hands. “...Maybe it’s not impossible.”

“Maybe it’s not,” Oswald could only hope that meant what he desperately prayed it did.

Since Edward was apparently going to do nothing but stare at their hands – Perhaps he could be forgiven currently – Oswald used the arrangement to gently tug him forward, leading them both towards home.

~#~

They agreed, without ever formalising the agreement for the sake of Edward’s mental health, to take things gently following that. Besides, with the public finding out as they’d expected, there were enough external challenges coming at the moment to keep things interesting.

Half-formed rumours about their relationship became whispered gossip, until the point it had become accepted fact without public statement ever needing to be made as people simply allowed themselves to believe what they so desperately wanted to.

Edward being so regularly around at the Iceberg Lounge, footage from the concert being shared online, sightings of them together in public and a few times Edward was seen leaving one of Oswald’s residences early in the morning... Well, they had no intention to deny it. How afraid people were to simply ask provided enough amusement, as did the fact people went straight from that to giving them movie and restaurant recommendations for dates or asking if they were engaged yet.

Come the end of November Oswald easily recognised the particular brand of child-like excitement on Edward’s face as he wove his way through the Lounge tables one evening with a complete disregard for everything except getting to Oswald, phone already out in hand; Edward had something new, probably _Gotham_ -related to show him. “I was going to send these to you as soon as I saw them earlier,” Edward began gleefully as Oswald excused himself from his previous company, “but I wanted to see your face – Have you seen these yet?”

“Have I seen what?” Oswald couldn’t even get a good look at Edward’s phone screen the way he was waving it around in his excitement.

Once Oswald had encouraged him to sit at their usual spot around the penguin enclosure, Edward showed him the phone and a number of social media posts heavy with photos at such a speed Oswald struggled to properly register them. “These leaked from the set; it’s future-us from right at the end of season five-!”

“Well, let me see them!” Oswald had to forcibly take the phone, swatting away Edward’s overly keen finger trying to rush him through and ignoring the prattle about whatever site had apparently leaked them.

The posts really did show... well, some very interesting [costumes](https://penguinssupersecretsafehouse.tumblr.com/image/180287678707) and [predicaments](https://penguinssupersecretsafehouse.tumblr.com/post/180285473252/via-httpsmweibocnstatus4308163258279980)\- “Good Lord, if we weren’t already camp enough...”

“I know!” Edward intoned rather effeminately, hardly helping matters. “So much gay they had to tie us together to keep it all together in one place. I’m deeply disappointed by the lack of Penguin pudge though, I must say; they think that even compares to what you used to look like in costume?”

“[Robin certainly looks](https://penguinssupersecretsafehouse.tumblr.com/post/180286372172/why-are-yall-sitting-on-these-holy-shit)...” Oswald hummed. “He did try my monocle and top hat on while visiting but...”

“I actually love what they’ve done with my hair and glasses finally,” Edward continued obliviously. “I mean, that coat is a walking disaster- Both of our coats really; you would never have worn such a garish tragedy.”

“Well, there was that flamingo-themed...” Oswald trailed off, flicking through to the [final post](https://penguinssupersecretsafehouse.tumblr.com/post/180285701362/who-is-this-if-this-is-martin-im-going-to-die) as Edward caught up with that little delicacy of information, needling Oswald for the details.

“Are we talking pink? As in hot pink or more like- Wait, was that bright pink feather boa I found in your closet-?” Edward shut up, finally taking in how Oswald was only staring in silent fixation at the screen and leaning in to check which photo he was looking at. “Oh, that one. People are speculating that might be-”

“Martín...” Oswald’s thumb caressed the edge of the screen alongside the close-up. “He even has your bowler hat and my umbrella...” There was so much joy in his voice it came out with a chuckling lilt.

Edward opened his mouth to correct Oswald that was just speculation but... “I don’t know how old we’re meant to be in that future part at the end,” he began; “the age we are now perhaps? Or just before you reformed? Anyway...” He looked closely at Oswald, uncertain if his words had even registered since Oswald was still so enthralled; there was a tint to his expression though, one painfully wistful. “...You still want a child, don’t you, Oswald?”

Finally Oswald startled back to reality, so deeply caught he almost looked guilty about it. “I... I do,” Oswald admitted without any actual determination to it. “I know it for what it is, a far-flung and foolhardy fantasy though. It’s simply...” His gaze settled back on that photo, even if it was nothing more than a speculative sliver of something fictional in the first place.

“Well,” Edward gave a single short laugh, nodding to the phone, “there’s always adoption, you know.”

Oswald only shook his head however.

“Ah, you’re narcissistic enough you feel the need to create a new being in the world with your DNA and won’t settle for less.”

That finally pulled Oswald out of the moment. “I do not need to be accused of narcissism by the likes of _you_ ,” he retorted, making Edward grin. Sighing, Oswald’s ruffled feathers slowly settled back down. “As much as I would prefer a child of my own biology, as I said before I wouldn’t be that cruel. I highly doubt I could pass the requisites of adoption anyway, or find a child who wasn’t simply interested in me for the novelty of my fame.”

Edward considered the phone thoughtfully for a moment, before coming out with, “Well, I’m at least a few years younger than you, and I like to think I’ve retained a child-like joy in life.” He grinned again, telegraphing it was just a joke even if one of potentially incredibly poor taste.

Oswald stopped himself before uttering the words ‘daddy issues’ in Edward’s direction thankfully, simply switching it to a heavy groan instead. After a deep breath in and out to cleanse himself of that thought, “Thank you for fully dissuading me of any parental impulses with that, Edward. Do hurry up and select a new subject of conversation now that you have so thoroughly killed the last one.”

Edward chuckled, taking his phone back and shutting that particular post to get back to the other more hilarious ones; “Do you think they used make-up to make Robin look older for these, or they simply stopped using the make-up they normally use to make him look young?”

~#~

December had fully set in when the news came. Gotham had just survived its first blanketing of snow, everyone breathing a sigh of relief Mr. Freeze had remained out of sight until the streets were clear again. The cold had given way to a string of overcast, rainy days as Oswald and Edward made their way through the hedge and willow maze that surrounded Harley and Pamela’s house, concealed swords at hand in their weapons despite supposed assurances Pamela’s plants could recognise friend from foe and would allow them in.

Jonathan and Jervis were already there by the time the final couple arrived, Harley telling Jervis at length about the latest trick she’d apparently taught their hyenas – “They were doin’ it just tha other day, I swear! Come on, babies! Blow up the whoopee-cushion for mommy!” – while Jonathan and Pamela were arguing about anything and everything in the other corner by the sounds of it.

Oswald and Edward’s presence was welcomed, Harley dragging them both in and leaving the hyenas chewing on a whoopee-cushion that looked as if it wouldn’t be blown up again any time again ever. “Yay! Ya finally here! We can finally tell ya all!”

“I know Pamela may have her issues with technology given America’s ridiculous aversion to renewable energy,” Edward said, eyeing the hyenas uneasily, “but was it really necessary for us to be here in person to hear this?”

“Uh-huh! Uh-huh!” Harley promised. “We already told ‘Lina but you four we wanted ta tell together ‘cause we’ve got somethin’ ta show ya too!”

“Well, child?” Jonathan prompted.

Harley skipped over to Pamela’s side, who smiled if awkwardly at her partner’s exuberance, as Harley made a big cheerleader-style jump to announce, “Me an’ Red are gettin’ married!”

The four men looked to each other, each summoning their own respective congratulations but not wishing to bump into one another with the delivery.

“But,” Harley continued before any could, “’course we can’t legally get married on account of bein’, ya know, too legally insane ta sign documents. So we gotta go inta Arkham an’ jump their hoops first.”

“You’re that uncomfortable about living in sin you’d submit yourselves to that?” Jonathan asked facetiously.

“Of course not, not that anything we’re doing is a sin in the first place,” Pamela scorned. “And it’s not really for the marriage we need to get their silly rubber stamp of approval. There’s another reason, one that meant we had to call you all here,” she said, looking pointedly at Edward for a moment.

Leading on, Harley excitably skipped ahead, the two women took them through the house to a room that looked like a large downstairs bathroom repurposed into a laboratory-cum-greenhouse. Although much was scattered around the room in the form of both inanimate objects and living plants, one particularly large plant stood free from the walls in the centre of the room and drew all attention.

“Didn’t you and the Tiger Lily once make some bet regarding marriage, Dormouse?” Jervis mentioned as the group approached and gathered around what was apparently their destination. “Something to the effect of planning one another’s weddings- Oh, was it dependent on whose came first?” he puzzled.

“Did we?” Pamela asked, as dubious as the shared expression on Edward’s face.

“Yes, yes; we were in the Arkham lunchroom and you were asking if Jonathan and I intended marriage,” Jervis said. “I’m quite certain Edward made plainly clear he never intended to marry, and thus if he ever did you were invited to be his wedding planner.”

Oswald looked up at Edward with quite the number of peeved and betrayed emotions, while Pamela brightened as she remembered, “That’s true! You did, Edward! And I said I’d return the deal but I dreaded what you’d come up with so simply sealed the deal regarding your wedding.”

“Edward,” Oswald began. “Why am I only just finding out-?”

“It was six years ago!” Edward defended, proving he did remember after all. “And, you know- Ah ha!” He pointed back at Pamela. “You said you’d kiss me if Jonathan and Jervis weren’t married within five years of that conversation!”

“Mm, but you declined; you told me I could ‘keep my poisons to myself’ I seem to recall.” Edward frowned dubiously, not quite willing to stake his reputation on disagreeing with what sounded very much like something he’d have said. “Anyway,” Pamela got them all back on track, “this is the real reason Harley and I need to reform, and what we need to ask the four of you to look after for us while we’re in Arkham.”

All four men looked down at the large plant growing in a long planter of soil, one that was mostly stem and just a single large, leafy growth that looked as if it potentially contained some kind of fruit within its dark green wrapping of flat leaves and thorny shoots.

“What’s so special about this plant?” Jonathan asked, as disdainful as ever about anything of Pamela’s.

The women looked to each other, Pamela smiling and Harley grinning gleefully, before Harley reached down to begin peeling back the leaves wrapped around its growth. A gelatinous, translucent grey jelly with some sort of shiny film became visible, holding its shape quite well and glistening beneath the room’s gentle lighting.

As enough leaves were peeled and held back, it became apparent there was something darker within the translucent jelly like a seed at its centre. Something rather shapeless but perhaps reminiscent of a very distorted kitten or-

“A baby?” Jonathan was the first to recognise. “A human baby I presume?”

Harley just squealed she was so happy. “Red made this amazin’ plant – It was meant ta be for usin’ stem cells from animals ta grow meat for us ta eat but then we realised it could grow human tissue too – and if ya give it two human stem cells it can turn ‘em into gametes – Ya know, sex cells – even if you’re tha same sex. We’re gonna have a daughter!” She began practically vibrating up and down with excitement.

“But of course there’s no way they’re going to let two people deemed criminally insane keep a child,” Pamela continued more seriously. “The city might look the other way about our public existence as long as we’re not up to trouble but once a child is involved they’re going to do anything to separate it from us, and there’s no way they’ll let us have her back unless we’re ‘sane’ by their standards. Plus... we don’t really want her to grow up in this sort of life, having to hide and steal to survive; it wouldn’t be fair to her,” she said more seriously, almost verging on melancholic at the thought.

“How far along is she?” Jervis inquired, leaning in to estimate the size a little better.

“We conceived her around late September, so she should come to term around next June; that gives us around half a year to jump their hoops at Arkham,” Pamela answered.

“We won’t be tellin’ ‘em ‘bout her ‘til right near tha end just in case,” Harley added. “No one knows ‘bout her outside of you all an’ ‘Lina, so we just need you all ta come by regularly and check on her when ya feed the hyenas an’ all.”

“I already have automatic watering systems set up so I don’t have to trust you with the rest of my babies,” Pamela told them gladly. “I’ll be setting up some similar technological monitoring for her so it can send you an alert in case of an emergency such as if our solar panel’s running low on electricity.”

“We also wanted ta ask,” Harley said, finally slowing down a little in pace, “if any of you all wanted ta make kids – Red didn’t wanna offer as there’s a two-thirds chance it’ll be a boy for you guys, presumin’ all of you have XY chromosomes, but I convinced her it’d be nice if our little sprout had someone ta play with!”

Jonathan looked to Jervis instantly, the far more likely party for them. “Oh no. I don’t think... I really don’t believe we ought to be trusted with a child,” he voiced, looking to Jonathan who was quick to agree with that.

“Aw, ya don’t want your own little Alice to raise?”

Jervis shook his head certainly. “A couple of dwarf rabbits maybe; we were thinking about that.”

“Much easier to toilet train,” Jonathan agreed. “Much cuter as well.”

“Aww, okay.” Harley turned to Edward and Oswald, both frozen remarkably silent for once. “What about you two?”

They simply turned to one another, knowing only they’d have to get back to her on that one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation about marriage was one the group really did have in chapter 14 of ‘[And It Was the Strangest Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982985/chapters/39566710)’.


	11. The Empty Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now season 5 of _Gotham_ has finished airing there are some references to what happens during the series in this chapter but only quite minor ones. In the end, though I wanted to add more, I firstly don't want to spoil it for anyone and secondly couldn't help but think in a universe where the Penguin and Riddler are known to be in a relationship and watching that the producers of the show would actually have had the guts to put them in the relationship we all know they were meant to be in. So yeah, that part is what it is. I can go into how I think my Penguin and Riddler would have reacted to bits in comments if you want but I didn't want to bog this chapter down when there's a lot of other things going on.
> 
> Content warning therefore for _Gotham_ season 5, and also needles.

Tradition dictated the holidays are a time for uncomfortable family conversations. Oswald and Edward were no different, although it was one of a slightly different kind in their case.

With Pamela and Harley waiting until the new year to submit themselves to Arkham so they could avoid its annual ‘Holidayfest’ celebration, a totally secular event that just happened to be on the 25th of December and feature present-giving, that meant New Year’s was the deadline for a decision. If they wanted to do the procedure, with a few days afterwards to make sure the zygote was stable, it was then or however many months Arkham would detain the two until they got their ‘sane’ stamp.

After a quick conversation established, “You don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“Too many miserable memories.”

“Honestly, same. Although more like painfully happy and then miserable in my case,” Edward agreed.

“The Lounge opens for anyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas on the 25th; I have enough staff who celebrate Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Yule or nothing to manage, even if I have to pay the bouncer double for all the drunk Christmas celebrants who start mouthing off about a war on Christmas and that to her,” Oswald said. “If you’d care to, would you like to join me for a totally normal luncheon on the day?”

“Sure, I’ll bring the dessert.” Edward hummed, obviously not done yet. “It’s a shame though; here I thought I was going to have a reason to come do a little haunting of your bed on Christmas Eve.”

“Well... there might not be any harm in doing it anyway, just in case...”

After a late Christmas morning, where nothing more serious than if they thought the penguins and other birds of Oswald’s also celebrated holidays of any avian kind – “Henukkah? Hawkmanay? Swanzaa? That last one even makes sense; I bet the black swans are pretty sick of the white ones getting all the attention!” – the two sat down to the very un-festive meal of quesadillas in Oswald’s suite above the Lounge prepared by Oswald, before Edward fetched his own contribution from the fridge.

“Was it truly necessary to-?”

“Yes,” Edward answered of the green, question-marked tissue paper he’d carefully affixed to the inside of the container to obscure his dessert surprise. Lifting the lid carefully off, he revealed a small and deliberately messy-looking pie, serving it up onto the plates Oswald had provided. “It’s a secret recipe of mine~!”

“Oh?” Oswald inspected the slice passed to him. “It’s not banoffee pie?”

“Wait, how do you-?! Who have I made this for...?”

As Edward trailed off into considering the list of suspects, Oswald sighed. “You really don’t get out much, do you?” Since there was no sparing Edward’s pride either way now, “It was a recipe that became popular during my childhood and adolescence in England; you’re not the inventor, Edward.”

Pouting, and sitting down with his seat very tetchily, “I never said I was; I only meant this particular interpretation is a secret recipe of mine,” he claimed with a clever, little sniff. Oswald would let him have it, if his pride required it that badly; in fairness the banana slices were hiding between the base and cream in this version. “This is the way my mother always used to make it...” Edward admitted more quietly. “I thought, since we’re going to be talking about...”

“I can take it then that you continue to not desire a child,” Oswald said.

“And I take it that you still do.” Edward’s fork dipped into the cream of his pie, sifting out a slice of banana. “I don’t know that I... don’t want a child, exactly. It is complicated for me though.”

“Just as it is for me-”

“And so was this relationship,” Edward said before Oswald could sigh. He raised his eyebrow at the choice of past tense, but Edward continued, “I still don’t think it’d be a good idea to let me near a child, but you seem set on having me in your life so... I don’t want to be the thing stopping you, Oswald,” he made clear.

“What do you fear befalling an infant in your proximity, precisely?”

Edward shrugged very uncomfortably. “Just... what if I’ve inherited something from my father, whatever made him so capable of being cruel to his own biological child? What if I don’t love them, or I come to resent them?”

“I would say your concern about such things already shows you to at least be a far better man than your beast of a father,” Oswald argued. “What if you took after your mother though, if you come to make them feel as loved as she did for you?”

“Then what if they lose me too?” He pointed his fork across at Oswald. “And don’t say it isn’t likely, not in this city.” Oswald swallowed uncomfortably, able to see at least three bullet or knife scars on his own exposed forearms alone even right now. “...I don’t really want a child, Oswald; I want my mother back,” Edward confessed. “You seem to have, I don’t know, written your parents off or something though. You seem to be able to fix whatever love they didn’t give to you by giving it to a child of yours instead, but I don’t think that would work for me. I don’t think it would help me.”

“Having a child won’t fix what my parents inflicted upon me, Edward,” Oswald said. “Such a heavy responsibility would be a cruel burden to birth a child with, and I imagine your reticence might come from also sensing that.” He wanted to take his time savouring Edward’s pie – Which was fantastic, just like anything Edward had a hand in creating – but when emerald eyes were looking at him with such curiosity, “But while it wouldn’t fix me, it would still help me; I remain lonely, in desire of a family to call my own. I think that may be another thing that draws the two of us together, that draws the majority of us rogues together actually. And perhaps you are right in what you say that it wouldn’t help you, given yours is a matter of desiring a family _back_ while I never had one in the first place. But I would like a family, Edward. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so greedy as to need a biological one like this, given our close circle of friends behave like one and I also have my staff, and perhaps it is narcissism, but...”

Edward fiddled with his pie as he thought, dissecting it on his plate. After making his little piles of each part he took his time carefully building a forkful with exactly equal amounts of each, but didn’t seem any more satisfied in the end after placing it in his mouth. “Is there just some biological urge, or whatever it is they say women get, in you that wants to procreate and see a little version of you running around?” he asked, pulling the fork from his mouth.

Oswald chuckled. “I suppose you could call it that, yes. Although I’d hope he’d be better-looking than yours truly.”

“‘He’?” Edward noted, but more importantly, “I don’t have that sort of urge within me at all.” Oswald swallowed his comment about there not being room what with the amount of space Edward’s ego took up along with a mouthful of pie. “What sort of feeling is it exactly? A curiosity, or an altruism, or some sort of need to impart the knowledge you’ve gained from your life experience to the next generation?”

“You’re beginning to sound like Jonathan when he talks about human emotions,” Oswald teased lightly, a thought that was apparently quite insulting to Edward given the face he made. “I’m not sure I could place it under any of those really. I simply... want to see them smile, to see a child happy with the life I gave to them; imagining such a thing just fills with me with a happiness that I can’t... I believe I mentioned it the first time, how much I would love to have someone who inspired in me a selflessness I’ve never had before.”

“Don’t I?” The childish simplicity, bordering on an obvious jealousy, Edward asked it with amused Oswald. “You said that you’d let me go if you needed to, even though it would be the end of relationships for you and maybe even our friendship.”

“Well, I...” He picked at his half-empty plate, trying to forcibly extend his time limit for a defence.

Edward tutted. “You really can’t see what a good person you are – Do you think I’d be dating you if you weren’t good enough to be worthy of someone like me?” Oswald gave him a dry look for the ego-infused comfort, but before he could give a rebuttal, “I’ve been thinking about all this a lot this past week, and I know that I don’t want a child of my own, Oswald,” Edward concluded. “But I think I might like to help you raise your child,” He dared to look up hopefully, “if you don’t think it’d be a bad idea.”

“To raise...?” Oswald turned his fork in his hands, considering that particular phrasing and its nuances.

“Like I said, I don’t want to be the thing standing in the way of you having the child you want – No more than one though; I liked being an only child,” Edward continued.

Oswald snorted lightly. “Having had siblings, I can concur on one.” He looked up, even if Edward was evasively and uncomfortably focused on what little was left of his pie again. “You wouldn’t get jealous that I would have give them precedence over you at times, given they would be a child and psychologically more in need of it?”

“I’m a grown-up,” Edward insisted touchily.

Oswald might contend that, at times at least, but, “And having them running around touching all of your possessions or making noise at all hours of the day and night?”

“We can keep them here and at your mansion only; I’ll leave my valuables at my place. And I thought there were those pacifier things you could put in their mouths to keep them quiet.”

Oh dear. “I really can’t have you going in and out of Arkham once they’re born, given such inconsistency can cause attachment issues. Nor do I think people will continue to look the other way about our association once a child is in the picture. Would you be willing to do what is necessary in regards to giving up your criminal career?”

Edward pulled a face, rolled around a bit, and eventually exhaled harshly. “I said I was willing to try changing; given how much I fear harming a child in the way that I was, hopefully this might give me some motivation to stick to whatever change I can make. Although I can’t promise anything quickly I can stop, you know, aggravating Batman and the GCPD with riddles, I suppose...” He petulantly considered it a little further. “As long as I don’t do anything new that’s criminal that should be enough, right? You’re not going to make me jump their hoops at Arkham too, are you?”

“Considering I don’t believe you’d be out any time soon at all given their interpretation of your mental state, no, I don’t believe such a thing will be necessary. Just no further crimes, yes?” Edward tilted his head this way and that as if considering it – Oswald could remember the addictive allure of certain criminal acts even now and couldn’t begrudge him – but eventually nodded. “Good.”

“Are you going to want to use my DNA for it?” Edward asked.

“Oh. Well, I did rather expect...” Oswald began uncertainly. “I mean, you could hardly forgive me for wanting your intelligence for them,” he tried in flattery.

“It can be- If they’re not able to cope with it, such a level of intelligence might not be quite the positive you envisage,” Edward warned carefully. “I don’t mind, if you really want to use mine. But I wouldn’t be offended if you wanted to use someone else’s- Jervis and Jonathan are also very intelligent. Or either of my girls or Selina have a natural athleticism neither of us were particularly gifted with.”

“I’d still rather employ yours, if you don’t mind,” Oswald said quite honestly, although the awkward attempts at deflection amused him.

“Mine? Really? Well, if you think it would be a good combination with yours... But I can’t be their parent,” Edward lay down firmly. “Not biologically nor socially, I can’t be their ‘parent’ or I... I just can’t,” he repeated firmly. “They’re your child; I’m simply your partner helping raise them, as if you’d already had them before we started dating.”

Oswald nodded, having had time to tease out such nuances in Edward’s original offer by now. “I believe that might assist with the matters of your continued status as a criminal as well to have them only in my name as legal guardian. Do you wish to keep the fact of your biological relation a secret then?” Edward nodded. “Even from them?”

Edward pulled a face that knew it couldn’t outright refuse. “I mean, they’ll probably work it out eventually. They’re bound to inherit something from me, although hopefully it’ll be something simple and recessive we could claim was hiding in your family. But I’d rather no one know if possible.”

“Given the means of gestation we could simply contrive it to be a quirk of Pamela’s plant if asked.” As he realised the extent of excuse-planning they were already going to, “You’re committed to this then? You’ll consent to conceiving a child with me, Edward?”

Thankfully Edward gave it one final consideration for a moment, scratching his fork over his now-empty plate before laying it down to rest there. “Your child, yes.” He leant onto one elbow, unable to keep from smiling, albeit with an anxious edge, at the euphoric excitement that spread over Oswald’s face. “You already have names in mind, don’t you?”

“I don’t, actually,” Oswald admitted. “I was thinking I’d like to meet them first before I decided for certain...” He was already off in thought anyway.

Edward sighed; it was going to be a long nine months.

~#~

The two men’s eyes followed the shine up the considerable and terrifying length of the needle Harley held up, Oswald even glancing in the direction of the door just briefly. “Wh-Where exactly do you need to, ahem, stick that?” Edward asked, a hand subtly covering his crotch.

“Bone marrow’s tha best source of stem cells; spine’s a good source of bone marrow!” Harley said cheerfully.

Edward turned to Oswald, pointing a very stern finger at him. “If I end up paraplegic because of her you’re taking care of me.”

“Accepted,” Oswald swallowed, steeling himself at the sight of that very long and uncomfortably thick-looking syringe needle again – God, even the ones on Jonathan’s syringe-glove weren’t that long.

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout it!” Harley chuckled. “I dressed up as a nurse, like, four times or somethin’ in schemes for that stupid clown! I know what I’m doin’!” Edward shot Oswald another death glare for getting him into this. “‘sides, both me an’ Red were fine an’ I stuck this in us too- Oh wait, should probably wipe it down before doin’ you’s guys, huh?” She laughed, drawing horrified disbelief from her two awaiting patients. “Aw, I’m just yankin’ ya both – I wiped it down, I wiped it down!”

“Do we trust her not to have wiped it down with the hyenas’ bath towel?” Edward asked without an appropriately hushed tone, leading Harley to yank on his arm and pull him over to the garden bench – Of all unsanitary things – they were using as a medical table for the procedure.

“Shirt up – We found out it hurts less a bit higher up ya back,” Harley instructed.

“Only ‘less’?” he made a point of, but sighed and settled prostrate on the bench, hitching up his shirt to under his arms and exposing the heavily-scarred skin of his back.

“Whoa! You got a lotta-!”

“Don’t,” Edward silenced her quickly and plainly, gaze turned mostly downwards away from her with his head resting on crossed forearms.

Oswald only stood by, one hand resting on the end of the bench’s backboard as he watched over the procedure Edward was so dutifully submitting himself to; he hadn’t objected or even hesitated about lifting up his shirt. Was that really progress he had made so quickly? Or was it just because it was for this, for the child Oswald wanted so badly?

Edward lay through the whole thing with a pragmatic resignation, only wincing expectably with the pain of the large marrow needle plunging into his spine, then clinically standing and pulling his shirt down as Harley took the syringe’s contents over to Pamela who was fussing and communicating with a second one of those thorny pod plants, preparing its currently liquid centre that she tipped Edward’s bone marrow.

Oswald glanced at Edward at that point, seeing only a blankness trained on the slightly soil-dirtied floor of the lab. Edward’s hand twitched to rub the penetration site on his back but knew better and ending up just hovering there. He said nothing, nor looked at Oswald or even where his bone marrow had been taken. Such a resigned expression, “E-”

“Okie-dokies!” Harley cheerfully returned to them, wiping off the needle with a cloth that looked sanitary enough. “Your turn, Ozzie!”

He froze, knowing Harley was already looking at him and Edward had now turned to him as well. Fearing what his own hesitation might bring down upon them, “D-Does it hurt?” he justified, jovial in tone, as he tried so hard to smile normally at Edward.

“You’ve had bones fractured before; how do you think it feels having something break through your skin, nerves and bone like a massive, metal mosquito?” Edward scowled at the needle with personal affront.

The touch of indignant humour settled Oswald’s turning stomach, even if it still felt twisted around a heavy stone of fear. Harley’s cheerful smile was, as ever, impossible to resist and he found himself led by his own legs to the remarkably uncomfortable garden bench, settling in the same position with as much dignity as one could retain in this state.

“Just imagine ya bein’ poked with somethin’ else long an’ thin that’s fun, like Professah Crane’s dick!” Harley advised, which helped no one at all, not even herself.

While Pamela started muttering about sexual harassment, and Edward made a comment about the actual sensation which he was familiar with, Oswald just buried his face in his arms and tried to groan loud enough to drown out both the noise and his own thoughts as he felt the sharp and deeply painful prick, then ache of the needle sinking into his back; for once, focusing on the fact it was a medical needle being inserted into his body was actually the preferable option.

Everyone was infinitely glad to have the procedure over quickly, Oswald sitting up and smoothing out his shirt as Pamela even came over to take his syringe sample.

The pop of the syringe opening snapped Oswald to finally stop simply staring at the scene unfolding before him, “Wait!” looking around, and trying to ignore Pamela’s confusion and Harley’s disappointment, at Edward’s expression now.

He wasn’t staring down so blankly anymore, instead surprised with concern as he took in what Oswald had just done.

His own breathing heavy with a sudden anxiety about his actions as well, Oswald glanced at the halted procedure before focusing his attention on Edward. “Edward...” He couldn’t think of any way to ask this except to plainly say, “If this is really what you want, why do you look so miserable right now?”

Edward’s surprised eyes widened further, the same panicked look Oswald was inwardly experiencing. “I’m not...” he tried weakly, staring away at the floor again to gather his thoughts. “It’s just... It’s nothing to worry about, Oswald.”

“Edward, you’re currently alive, and they’re not.” He stood from the bench, even if he didn’t dare cross the distance between them when Edward was staring at his feet with such pained surprise again. “I know you said you didn’t wish to keep me from what I wanted, but I have no desire to push you into something you don’t want either.” Edward only hummed non-committally, trying to deflect the room’s attention from him for once; he had to be buzzing with intrusive thoughts right now, to be feeling nothing but vulnerable. Oswald hated to push on while the moment demanded it, but, “In all this talk about changing... You said that conversation would answer it, if I hurt or help you. But I’m afraid I didn’t quite... When I see you looking like this, I’m not so sure I understood after all and...”

“I deliberately,” Edward started awkwardly, a twitchiness that obviously indicated how much self-control he was having to exert to even keep in place for this conversation, “decided to use a song to reflect that it’s... Well, sometimes what helps someone at one point ends up hurting them down the line. Or sometimes you have to hurt someone to help them. Life’s not as simple as one or the other, is it?”

Well, no, it wasn’t. But that hardly provided the answer they needed right now. “If we’re not completely sure about this-”

“We decided on Christmas Day,” Edward cut in with a definite edge.

“We can change our minds,” Oswald rose to him. “This is a child; we need to be one hundred percent certain, or else... Well, we know what happens in the case of ‘else’ only too keenly.”

Edward struggled, but began flapping his hands, even letting out a whine he must have hated himself for. “But... I want a child!” he fussed. “I want you to have a child, to see you with a child! And if we wait then you’ll lose even more time that you won’t get to spend with them at your age! I’m just... still worried I might end up only hurting them.”

Oswald inclined his head to one side compassionately, approaching now and glancing over; gladly the women were giving them some privacy, even if Pamela was having to somewhat forcibly encourage Harley to. At close range, taking Edward’s hands into his own, “I said that, if this relationship proved too harmful for you, I would let you go. Would you do the same, to protect a child?” He spared Edward direct eye contact but looked deep into Edward’s face the best he could nonetheless, searching out the feelings in there.

Edward stared down at their joined hands, the overwhelming sensation calming him but also rather slowing things down apparently. His face was contorted, whether just by his intrusive thoughts or more Oswald couldn’t say. Eventually, his lips stammering wordlessly for a moment, “...I think I could, yes. I wouldn’t want to...”

“Of course not.”

“...but I would, if you really needed me to,” Edward managed to finish. His hands held onto Oswald’s, fingers rubbing knuckles gently in thought. “...You’ve given me this, some hope again,” he said very quietly, privately; “I want to give you this in return.”

“Including with your DNA?”

Edward hesitated again, but, “You’ve helped me cope with mine, living with its... more challenging aspects. If you do the same for them... like my mother used to do for me...”

Oswald held Edward in his gaze a few moments longer, checking for certain, before allowing him to retreat into himself to fight those inner demons only he could.

He kept Edward’s hands in his though, the whole time, as he turned to Pamela once more, telling her this time, “If you would.”

She studied them too a moment, “All right then,” before trusting them and tipping the second vial into the plant as well.

Oswald and Edward came to stand over it, even as absolutely nothing appeared to be happening on a visual level.

“First it needs to form your stem cells into gametes,” Pamela explained. “Then they’ll begin fusing with each other, trying for successful conceptions. The ones that succeed will fight it out for the nutrients, absorbing the losers until one strong embryo remains.”

“How... violent,” Oswald pulled a slight face.

“It happens in wombs with multiple viable zygotes too sometimes,” she told him. “And it’s good preparation for life.”

Oswald snorted lightly at that, supposing in a sad way it was.

Perhaps, for anyone, to conceive a child was as much a cruelty as a kindness in this world.

On that cold and crisp New Year’s Day, Pamela confirmed a few days later just before their self-admission to Arkham, one stable zygote won out, ready to be born nine months later into a hopefully much warmer world.

~#~

At the same time, on the very first Thursday of the new year, the final season of _Gotham_ began its gradual airing.

With Edward around every other day anyway, and their relationship practically public, Oswald was certainly glad to stop winding so many of his emotions up in whether Edward would appear for the watch-alongs or not. Instead they could just simply sit and make joyous fun of a bulldog being named after Edward, Oswald’s turn towards dictatorship and the ultimate question of, “How dare they give me that _hair_? I deserve to be waking up in dumpsters if I look like that.”

A surprising lack of comment was made on their relationship at the evenings; more seemed interested in Oswald’s noted association with his actor now, and what secrets he therefore knew – “As I continue to maintain, Robin insists on divulging nothing so I may impart to him my unsullied opinion at the end of each episode.” – and on speculating how life in their city would actually play out in such an apocalyptic scenario.

Harley insisted on visits in Arkham for the sole purpose of hearing all about the latest episodes – “Whatta time ta be stuck in this dump, I tell ya! And I’m finally in this one too! If I’d known this was when season 5’d be airin’, I’da held off few months!” – Oswald did his duty to attend, as the one friend sane enough to be allowed to, and fill her in on the highlights, particularly how he and Edward were increasingly becoming the show’s gay comic relief towards the end (Although his real-life staff learning and insisting on singing ‘Penguin, Our Hero’ from episode three for the next two weeks whenever he walked into a room was not something she, or anyone else, needed to hear about).

Their little ‘seeds’, as they coded, continued to grow. With the two women on course to be released in late Spring, they would be back well in-time to handle things. All Oswald really knew was that Pamela’s measuring and detection devices weren’t displaying anything more than the occasional request for more water or a certain type of soil, so he was taking it that they were doing their job properly.

As April ended, so did the final season of _Gotham_.

Oswald had kept the particular surprise he’d arranged for the very final episode secret from everyone – Even Edward, now they’d gotten his spying habit under semi-control – aside from the bouncer that evening who’d be letting said surprise in.

He’d let the house get as packed as it could for once, leaving only enough room for all the actors who’d been free, and dared come, to join them in costume – And to varying degrees in character – thirty minutes before showtime.

That lack of space rather complicated things when the real Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock turned up for the first time – Edward wiggled his phone, taking credit – with ten minutes to go, and of all things the one and only Batman also decided he’d be watching along with this one.

Because, as a number of the rogues instantly objected, “Wherever you go, not far behind is-”

Well, the Lounge somehow survived the arrival of the Joker to the party. Free drinks seemed to help, even if he wanted to lodge a complaint about Batman having no signature drink to match his own Toxic Waste concoction.

“He may create one when he pays his palindromic bat tab,” Oswald responded sharply, scowling at the caped crusader who still owed him a good $40 at least.

The humour put the Joker in a good enough mood to behave – Even if Oswald felt nothing but sorry for his poor actor sat beside him all evening – and with a bit of luck he was in one of his less dangerous moods so Batman’s attention kept him placated through the show. All bets were off once the episode was over though, and they thankfully took their real-life continuation outside.

And talking of bets, the bell would have rung out on the payout of the Lounge’s betting board but- “You are aware gambling is _illegal_ in this state, unless sanctioned by a state legislator, yes?” Jim Gordon cracked down first, leaning across Oswald’s personal table.

Oswald only continued to lean casually to one side in his seat, gesturing to Edward and all of his friends in attendance. “Shouldn’t you also be arresting just about everyone here, if we’re really going to be making a fuss about silly little things like broken laws?”

Jim and Harvey took a look round at the rogues in attendance, every single one of them doubtless armed with at least two weapons, and the thronging number of civilians that would make simply carting them out of here an impossibility with their current popularity, and simply sighed to each other. “One of these days, Cobblepot,” Jim warned him.

“One of these days, old friend,” Oswald said, giving a realistically uncharacteristic but _Gotham_ -like smile and wave as his favourite police detectives left empty-handed once again.

When it came to the matter of paying out, in the end it was decided – Since a majority of betters had been kind enough to bet on them ending up together – that the real life result mattered more than a fictional TV show anyway. (Although, since a wedding date thankfully hadn’t been set yet, they didn’t have to pay out double and just about broke even in the end.)

~#~

A mild summer passed into a warm and dry autumn.

Nine months exactly – Since Harley couldn’t be made to wait a day longer – and the time finally came.

“Do you want a turn?” Oswald offered as they begun the descent from his suite down to the main Lounge, a swaddled bundle in his arms he held out slightly towards Edward.

Instinctively Edward backed straight away, hands up. “Isn’t there some special manner by which you’re meant to hold them? I’ve never been taught it.”

“All you have to ensure is that the head is supported,” Oswald said, adding in jest, “With the size of yours, I’m certain you’ve had plenty of practice at that.”

Edward pulled a face in good enough humour, carefully watching Oswald descending the stairs for the slightest thing he might trip over or stumble on. “Heavy?”

“Barely at all. Certainly not compared to the penguins.” Oswald checked the bundle again, unable to help himself, before turning to Edward as they crossed an intermediate landing between flights. “I trust you, Edward, even if you don’t trust yourself.”

Edward only shoved his hands in his pockets, but the sheepish flush on his face might be something to have hope in. “I can’t believe we somehow managed to get to all... this,” He gestured around at the practically living together, the committed relationship and _child_ of all things.

Oswald chuckled. “All from a TV show.”

“A terribly written one. With really ridiculous plots and character interpretations. And I hear the GCPD still have arrest warrants out after the tarnish it put on their reputation.”

One of Edward’s fingers was tapping quickly against his folded arms, but otherwise he seemed at a reasonable peace right now. “Nervous?” Oswald checked.

“It’s your child; why would I be nervous?” Edward brushed off to save face. Oswald rolled his eyes slightly, admitting to himself it had been a poor question to ask in the first place. “...You will tell me if I ever need to leave, won’t you?” he asked quietly, gaze on the stairwell wall. “If I was doing anything that could be harmful...”

“I would, and I would see if we could resolve it before resorting straightaway to anything as drastic,” Oswald replied.

“...Do you think I should go into Arkham?” Edward asked. “If I should, shouldn’t I go now while my absence won’t be noticed? I still don’t trust the police won’t use my presence to try and take-”

“Edward,” Oswald calmed him. “I don’t believe you _need_ to go into Arkham, no. We’ve found methods for you to cope by, and I judge you to be safe. I only want you to go when you want to go, when and if you wish for their help for whatever reason. I will fight to keep you both with everything I have until then.”

Edward hummed in slightly unsettled thought, two fingers tapping now. “...Not yet. One day...” He looked to Oswald, and particularly to the bundle in his arms. “One day I want to be able to be... everything I want to, to the two of you. Just not yet,” he said with a pained sadness. “I’m sorry.”

“One step at a time, Edward.” Oswald would have reached out to make contact had he not been carrying something so precious, and also for the fact they were literally walking down steps at the moment. “You’ve already made far more progress than I ever expected or needed you to make.”

“Have I?”

Oswald couldn’t tell if he was fishing for an ego-stroking or genuinely in need of reassurance, but, “We both said that we would be willing to let the other go, were it to be necessitated,” he said. “I would say that shows what we provide for one another now is true support, and support devoid of the dangerous dependency damaged individuals such as ourselves were at risk at falling prey to entering this relationship. I would say we have both become stronger individually for this relationship, wouldn’t you?” he asked. “That shows this to be a healthy association bestowing benefit to us both.” Looking down past his arms, he began on the final flight of stairs in their descent.

Edward watched them both, walking separately beside them, and drifted into considered thought for the moment. He never replied to Oswald’s question, but his fingers did stop tapping, slipping into the comfort of his pockets with a calm ease.

With his hands free, Edward was the one to step forward and hold open the kitchen door for Oswald, ready to walk through and into the Lounge proper.

Oswald had paused though, still at the bottom of the shadowed stairwell. He wasn’t crossing the threshold.

“Nervous?” Edward returned the favour.

Oswald took it with a slightly affronted pride, but nonetheless stayed reticently where he stood. “I... I know it’s foolish, that it’s already too late...” he said. “But somehow, to go out there and make this introduction... It feels as if there won’t be any going back once I do this.”

“There’s never really any true going back with anything in life, is there?” Edward said. Given it was rather a facetious and vague platitude for him, “You dared to get into this relationship with me despite, well, _some people_ might have said it was a bad idea,” he tutted, bringing a laugh to Oswald. Edward then looked at him again properly. “You’ll be seeing your therapist again soon, right? To tell him about all this?”

“Yes,” Oswald answered a little warily, not spotting any of the usual distaste in Edward’s attitude though. “You don’t mind?”

Edward’s gaze lowered, perhaps an admission of his former aversion. “He helps you, doesn’t he? Before I was... Partly I didn’t like the idea he might tell you I was a bad idea, that I’d be bad for you. And... I didn’t like the thought you needed him; I wanted to be the only one you needed... because I needed you,” Edward finished in a very small voice.

Oswald smiled fondly. “I don’t _need_ him in my life. But he does help me, yes. Needing another person is indomitably dangerous and daunting.” He looked down at the child in his arms, held so tight for safety to him. “I suppose we’ve both grown up finally, in that respect,” he said quietly, fearing a potential reaction it might provoke in Edward.

Edward stayed calm-looking though, still waiting on him with the door held open. “...You said you wanted a child so that you could be truly selfless for the first time in your life,” he said. “You said you’d let me go though, despite all the pain it would bring. You’ve always been as selfless as you wanted to be, Oswald; you simply needed the right people in your life.”

Looking up at Edward, Oswald inclined his head in acceptance finally perhaps, although one tainted with all the years and pain it had taken. “I couldn’t have done it with anyone else,” he said, finally drawing up the courage to step through.

“I heard you had a thing for Jonathan in the early days,” Edward teased as they crossed the kitchen.

“Where did you hear such a scurrilous supposition from?” Oswald’s feathers fluffed up with rather adorable affront.

Edward merely hummed in his infuriating way, since the person in question was waiting on the other side of the door they were fast approaching now.

As soon as they passed through Jervis and Harley were already waiting on the opposite side of the bar counter eagerly, even up on the stools to lean over. “I thought you were uninterested in children?” Oswald asked in some surprise to Jervis.

“Oh, our own, certainly!” he chirped in reply. “But I can’t wait to see your little... pengling?” Jervis guessed off the top of his head.

“Pengling!” Harley echoed, laughing.

“The correct term is ‘nestling’ or ‘chick’,” Oswald corrected, although he already knew it was too late. “At least let me around the bar.” He pushed past, making his way to where their other friends were waiting at a nearby table. Seeing who was waiting, “Not that I am adverse to your attendance, Mrs. and Mrs. Quinzley, but I do believe you were rather present earlier for the birth,” he addressed to Pamela and Harley.

“Yeah, but Lilith weren’t awake then!” Harley said as Pamela sat their daughter down on the tabletop so she could see too, supporting the two-month-old gently as she flapped her slightly green-tinted arms around in the air with an excitement she didn’t understand. “We wanted her ta meet her new little friend!”

“So?” Selina leant in as Oswald took his seat. “Boy or girl?”

“Well, at least you didn’t ask me what ‘type I got’ as Edward did earlier,” Oswald snorted lightly at the memories already. “They have XY chromosomes and a penis so we’re going with probability and using ‘he’ pronouns until we can be informed otherwise,” he answered in full, if they were that fascinated by the matter.

“‘Type’?” Jonathan asked Edward in a tone that suggested, even with his very poor interest in these things, he at least would have avoided that.

Edward put his thinking face on, hand to his chin. “I’m currently thinking a dual Ice/Fairy type. But it’s hard to tell until he learns some more moves as he levels up.”

Jervis put his face in a hand at the Pokémon joke he had the misfortune of understanding.

Oswald checked the child in his arms, turning him around to face the room even though, “Well, he’s still sleeping at the moment, quite surprisingly,” he cast a glance at Edward who put on his innocent ‘Me?’ face. “In any case. Everyone, this is my son, Julius Martín Cobblepot,” Oswald introduced, unable to prevent the broad smile at being able to say those words.

“‘Martín’?” Nina questioned.

“I hardly wanted to burden him with living up to the pre-existing fictional character,” Oswald explained. “But had it not been for the character I never would have brought up the matter of wanting children with Edward, nor dared to consider myself capable of it.”

“And ‘Julius’?” Jervis asked.

At that, Oswald could only shrug. “I thought it a rather elegant, well-balanced name.”

Edward, “*cough*Caesar*cough*” added less than subtly. When Oswald gave him a very pointed glare, “You might as well have called him ‘Napoleon’.”

“He’s so cute!” Diedre cooed as Harley lifted down Lilith to meet her new friend, flexing her hand in a wave for her.

As Jonathan took his turn leaning down to inspect the child, pushing his glasses up, “Does he have freckles already? That’s very unusual in a newborn.”

“Slight ones, yes,” Oswald answered, lifting and turning Julius to face the others slightly more clearly. A small number of very faint, light freckles were already dotted across his nose and cheeks – Very similar in location and pattern to someone else present in the room which everyone in the room had promised strictly to never mention – under short, jet black hair and a hooked, beak-like nose. “He did inherit my webbed feet and some slight hip deformity, sadly, and only time will tell regarding my glandular issues, but he avoided the full fate of ‘flippers’ at least.” With one of his own deformed hands, he fished one of Julius’ little arms out of his swaddling to show four nearly perfectly normal fingers and a thumb.

Almost sounding offended, a sharp squawk came from down by the chair leg.

Everyone looked down to see one of the Humboldt penguins stretching and flapping its own flippers as it stared up at Oswald with its dark eyes, or more particularly at Julius in his lap.

“Do you want to hold him again?” Oswald asked. “All right.” Shifting Julius around in his arms- “Oh, I see. You awaken for Christopher but not for me,” he noticed, handing down the yawning baby to sit against the penguin’s tummy where it supported Julius in a sitting position with its flippers and body, squeaking softly as if trying to communicate to the child.

“They recognise it as a child?” Jonathan noted with surprise.

“The penguins get excited about anything new I bring home,” Oswald said, watching over the interaction carefully. “They seemed to understand this was my chick, as it were, when I showed them.” Squeaking and jumping with flightless hops, the other Humboldts had come to crowd around the new addition now. Christopher was fussing at Julius’ hair, grooming him, while Robin the penguin pulled at the black and white swaddling cloth that was coming loose. Julius gurgled happily, tiny and weak hand clutching and squeezing at their feathers without fear.

“...That can’t be hygienic,” Edward said dubiously.

“Having pets around has been scientifically proven to aid the development of an infant’s immune system,” Jonathan said. “Besides, Pamela probably lets her child sleep in an actual flowerbed like a plant.”

“Hey!” Harley objected. “There’s only a layah of soil in Lilith’s cot ‘cause she finds it more comfortable than stuffin’ it with some rando bird’s feathers!”

Jonathan hadn’t intended his point to be proven, but there you go.

“Well,” Edward supposed about the penguins, “as long as they don’t start trying to regurgitate fish for him.”

“How long until I can read him _The Nursery Alice_? Carroll intended it for ages nought to five,” Jervis asked as he crouched down beside the little flock, pulling back as the penguins squeaked defensively and flapped at him, surrounding Julius protectively.

“I had thought fear began instinctively from the moment of birth,” Jonathan said, crouching down as well. “Perhaps he recognises our voices from our visits to check in on him during gestation, but I can’t account for this comfort he displays in the presence of the penguins.”

Oswald sighed lightly, scratching his head at the questionable fortune Julius had in ‘uncles’.

“You two are gonna be the bestest of friends, aren’t you?” Harley cooed to Lilith as she showed her Julius and the penguins, a creature she seemed much more afraid of than him. “Just like Bonny ‘n’ Clyde! ‘cept without the romance stuff. And the unhappy endin’.”

“Don’t let him boss around when he grows up just because he’s going to be socialised with some toxic masculinity,” Pamela cooed too, crouching down to her daughter. “You’re our little Amazon warrior, yes, yes.” She wiggled Lilith’s hand, her vine bracelet growing up Lilith’s arm by some instinctive power the baby already commanded.

“They both just look like little wiggle-potatoes to me,” Selina said as she considered the two, Harley pushing Lilith’s strawberry blond hair out of her face in an attempt to charm their fellow ‘aunt’ otherwise. “Children don’t get interesting until they’re old enough to start stealing things.”

“So, you’re a step-dad now, boss,” Nina teased to Edward, who baulked at the term. “No? Not even a step-parent?”

“I’m simply helping Oswald raise his child,” Edward clarified firmly.

“Okay,” Diedre accepted. “But when’s the wedding, hm? You’ve got to have set a date by now.”

As Edward explained they hadn’t, and pestering him wasn’t going to make it come any faster – “God, it’s like I’ve got three children to raise the way you two behave sometimes, girls.” – Oswald reached down and asked the penguins for his child back; “I believe he’s sufficiently groomed by this point, thank you.” Seating Julius back in his lap again, both arms now free and flapping around like flightless penguin wings, Oswald smoothed his swaddling back down where it was starting to get tangled. The two king penguins squawked their presence too on his other side, both also staring at the little nestling with great intrigue. “You can have the turn grooming him next time, all right?”

“Oh!” Diedre realised. “I never got to see; whose eyes does he have?”

Calming Julius’ flapping down, Oswald turned him around and helped hold his head up to look at all the faces that crowded round.

“They’re a sort of... blue-green?” Selina said.

“The alleles must have combined into an intermediary colour,” Jonathan sussed as Julius stared off in a different direction than all the faces, giving him a rather prideful aloofness.

Edward, stood above them all watching, realised something then with a little chuckle. “He’s going to look like Robin Lord Taylor’s version of you when he grows up, Oswald.”

The father in question looked down, tilting Julius’ head back and up slightly to take in, yes, all those very same features, if still in a pudgy, infantile form. Chuckling as he smoothed down the shock of black hair, Julius yawning and settling into his arms to sleep again, “All the dramatic misfortune the writers forced on him aside, I would be very happy if he grew up to be like that one day,” Oswald said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was lucky enough to receive this adorable art of Julius with the pengers from the wonderful unfledged ([Their Deviantart](https://www.deviantart.com/un-fledged/art/julius-cobblepot-the-penguin-s-son-791438612))!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I know things perhaps got a little rushed towards the end, but Julius' life is a story for another time. Growing up with the Penguin for a dad and all these other... colourful friends around certainly makes his childhood interesting.
> 
> I was considering doing a sequel set around five years later that would tie in my Hattercrow stories, when Julius is now a bit grown-up and Edward finally submits himself to Arkham along with Jonathan and Jervis, but life reasons mean I'm just not going to have the time to sadly. At around 200k of Batman fic written this past year or so I need a good break in general anyway.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this far, whether you started with the first two fics in this series or just this one. I don't know what else to say.


End file.
